
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 



Chap. Copyright No. 

SheltiXiLl/ 3 
f£?Tau 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 











THESUfck 
HABITANT 

::::::: AND 
OTHER rRCNCH- 
CANADIAN POEMS 

OS Bv William Henry 
^rummond, M.D. a£ 






WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY 

Louis Frechette 

AND WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

Frederick Simpson Coburn 

New York and London 

0. P. Putnam's Sons 

1597 




u 1 1 * 



T\kir\ ^Anik>« mt^tlUCM 



<> 



Copyright, 1897 

BY 

G. P.PUTNAM'S SONS 
Entered at Stationers' Hall, London 



Ube Iknicfcerbocfcer press, IRcw UJorft 



TO MY DEAR FRIEND AND FORMER TEACH F.R 

GEORGE MURRAY, Esq., B.A., A.K.C., F.R.S.C. 

THKSE VERSES ARE DEDICATED WITH SINCERE 
ADMIRATION AND RKSPECT 



";$ ?\y %*£% gfy 




INTRODUCTION 



ON me demande, pour ce charmant volume, 
un mot de preface en francais; le voici: 

Ouand, en 1863, je publiai mon premier re- 
cueil de poesies — ecrites au college, pour la 
plupart, — le grand poete americain Longfellow 
eut la flatteuse bienveillance de m'appeler The 
pathfinder of a new land of song. 

Avec mille fois plus de raison puis-je aujourd'- 
hui passer le compliment a mon sympathique 
confrere et ami, l'auteur de ce livre; car, si 
jamais quelqu'un, chez nous, a merite le titre de 
pat Ji finder of a new land of song, e'est assure- 
ment lui. 

Non seulement il a decouvert le champ, la 
clairiere, la vallee fertile et encore inexploree; 
il en a fait l'exploitation a sa maniere, avec des 
outils et des moyens de son invention ; et,. fier 



vi Introduction 

de sa conquete, il laisse, de son epaule robuste, 
tomber a nos pieds le fruit de son travail, la 
gerbe plantureuse aux ors vierges, a l'arome 
sauvage, aux savoureuses promesses, toute 
fraiche et toute crissante dans sa rusticite 
saine. 

N'est-elle pas, en effet, d'une originalite peu 
commune, l'idee de prendre un pauvre illettre, 
de le presenter comme un type national a part, 
de lui mettre aux levres une langue qui n'est 
pas la sienne et qu'il ne connait qu' a demi; 
d'en faire en rrieme temps un personnage bon, 
doux, aimable, honnete, intelligent et droit, 
l'esprit en eveil, le coeur plein d'une poesie 
native stimulant son patriotisme, jetant un 
rayon lumineux dans son modeste interieur, 
bercant ses heures reveuses de souvenirs loin- 
tains et melancoliques ? 

Et cela sans que jamais, dans ce portrait d'un 
nouveau genre, le plus subtil des critiques 
puisse surprendre nulle part le coup de crayon 
de la caricature ! 

Dans ses inimi tables contes villageois, George 
Sand a peint les paysans du Berry sous des de- 
hors tres interessants. Elle nous les montre 



Introduction vii 

meme d'un sentiment tres affine dans leur sim- 
plicity naive et leur cordiale bonhomie. En 
somme, elle en fait des natures, des tempera- 
ments, quelque chose de typique, en meme 
temps qu' harmonieux de teinte et de forme. 

Mais George Sand faisait parler ses person- 
nages dans la langue du pays, dans la langue de 
la chaumiere, dans leur propre dialecte, enfin. 
Elle n'avait, pour ainsi dire, qu' a faire penetrer 
le souffle de son talent sous le reseau de la 
phrase, pour animer celle-ci d'un reflet de ly- 
risme ou d'une vibration attendrie. 

La tache abordee par M. Drummond presen- 
tait un caractere beaucoup plus difficile. 

Ici, le poete avait bien, il est vrai, le milieu a 
saisir, place, droit en face de son objectif. II 
dtait assez familier avec ses acteurs pour les 
grouper avantageusement, en menageant les 
effets d'ombres et de lumiere. II est naturelle- 
ment assez artiste pour ne rien negliger de ce 
qui ajoute du pittoresque a la pose; surtout, il 
connaissait a fond le type a reproduire, ses 
mceurs, ses passions, ses sentiments, ses pen- 
chants, ses superstitions et ses faiblesses. 

Mais comment, sans tomber dans la charge 



viii Introduction 

ou la bouffonnerie, faire parler syst^matique- 
ment a ses personnages une langue etrangere, 
forcement incorrecte dans la bouche de quel- 
qu'un qui l'a apprise par oreille, sans savoir lire 
meme dans sa propre langue ? 

La tentative etait bardie ; mais on sait que 
le succes a un faible pour les audacieux. 

Dans son etude des Canadiens-francais, M. 
Drummond a trouve le moyen d'eviter un 
ecueil qui aurait semble inevitable pour tout 
autre que pour lui. II est reste vrai, sans tom- 
ber dans la vulgarite, et piquant sans verser 
dans le grotesque. 

Qu'il mette en scene le gros fermier fier de 
son bien ou de ses filles a marier, le vieux me- 
decin de campagne ne comptant plus ses etats 
de service, le jeune amoureux qui reve au clair 
de la lune, le vieillard qui repasse en sa me- 
moire la longue suite des jours revolus, le 
conteur de legendes, l'aventurier des " pays 
d'en haut," et meme le Canadien exile — le 
Canadien errant, comme dit la chanson popu- 
laire — -qui croit toujours entendre resonner a 
son oreille le vague tintement des cloches de 
son village ; que le r£cit soit plaisant ou pathe- 



Introduction ix 

tique, jamais la note ne sonne faux, jamais la 
bizarrerie ne degenere en puerilite burlesque. 

C'est la un tour de force comme il ne s'en fait 
pas souvent, et c'est avec enthousiasme que je 
tends la main a M. Drummond pour le feliciter 
de l'avoir accompli. 

II a veritablement fait la ceuvre de poete et 
d'artiste. 

J'ajouterai qu'il a fait aussi ceuvre de bon 
citoyen. Car le jour sous lequel il presentc mes 
compatriotes illettres ne peut manquer de valoir 
a ceux-ci — et partant a tout le reste de la na- 
tionality — un accroissement desirable dans l'es- 
time de nos compatriotes de langue anglaise, 
qui n'ont pas ete a meme de les etudicr d'aussi 
pres que M. Drummond. 

La peinture qu'en fait le poete est on ne peut 
plus sympathique et juste; et de semblables 
procedes ne peuvent que cimenter l'union de 
cceur et d'esprit qui doit exister entre toutes 
les fractions qui composent la grande famille 
canadienne appelee a vivre et a prosperer sous 
la meme loi et le meme drapeau. 

En lisant les vers de M. Drummond, le Ca- 
nadien-francais sent que c'est la l'expression 



x Introduction 

d'une ame amie; et, a ce compte, je dois a 
l'auteur plus que mes bravos, je lui dois en 
meme temps un chaleureux merci. 

Louis Frechette. 

Montreal, 13 octobre 1S97. 



PREFACE 



IN presenting to the public " The Habitant 
and other French-Canadian Poems," I feel 
that my friends who are already, more or less, 
familiar with the work, understand that I have 
not written the verses as examples of a dialect, 
or with any thought of ridicule. 

Having lived, practically, all my life, side by 
side with the French-Canadian people, I have 
grown to admire and love them, and I have felt 
that while many of the English-speaking public 
know perhaps as well as myself the French- 
Canadian of the cities, yet they have had little 
opportunity of becoming acquainted with the 
habitant, therefore I have endeavored to paint 
a few types, and in doing this, it has seemed 
to me that I could best attain the object in 
view by having my friends tell their own tales 
in their own way, as they would relate them 
to English-speaking auditors not conversant 
with the French tongue. 

My good friend, Dr. Louis Frechette, Poet 



xii Preface 

Laureate, has as a French-Canadian, kindly 
written an " Introductory " in his own graceful 
language, and I have to thank him above all 
for his recognition of the spirit which has actu- 
ated me in writing " dialect " verse. 

To Mr. F. S. Coburn, the artist, also, I am 
deeply indebted for the faithful manner in 
which he has interpreted the different charac- 
ters and scenes contained in this volume. All 
the pictures have been sketched from nature or 
life, and the keenest critic will agree with me, 
that Mr. Coburn's illustrations are most typi- 
cal, both of the people and the soil. 

William Henry Drummond. 




CONTENTS. 



De Habitant 

The Wreck of the " Julie Plan 

Le Vieux Temps . 

De Papineau Gun 

How Bateese Came Home . 

De Nice Leetle Canadienne 

'poleon dore 

De Not ure Publique 

Maxime Labelle . 

Memories .... 

Phil-o-rum Juneau 

De Bell of St. Michel 

Pelang . 

Mon Choual "Castor" 

Ole Tam on Bord-a Plouffe 

The Grand Seigneur 



TAGE 
I 

8 
1 1 

21 
24 

34 
37 
44 
48 

56 
60 

7i 

74 
80 

85 
9 1 



XIV 



Contents 



M'sieu Smit' 

When Albani Sang 

De Camp on de "Cheval Oris' 

De Stove Pipe Hole . 

De Snowbird 

The Habitant's Jubilee Ode 

Ole Docteur Fiset 



PAGE 

94 
104 
112 
118 

I2 5 
128 

134 



THE HABITANT 



a-ii- 



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DE place I get born, me, is up on de reever 
Near foot of de rapide dat 's call Cheval 

Blanc 
Beeg mountain behin' it, so high you can't 
climb it 
An' whole place she 's mebbe two honder 
arpent. 



De fader of me, he was habitant farmer, 
Ma gran' fader too, an' hees fader also, 



2 The Habitant 

Dey don't mak' no monee, but dat is n't fonny 

For it 's not easy get ev'ryt'ing, you mus' 
know — 

All de sam' dere is somet'ing dey got ev'ry- 
boddy, 
Dat's plaintee good healt', wat de monee 
can't geev, 
So I 'm workin' away dere, an' happy for stay 
dere 
On farm by de reever, so long I was leev. 

O! dat was de place w'en de spring tarn she 's 
comin', 

W'en snow go away, an' de sky is all blue — 
W'en ice lef! de water, an' sun is get hotter 

An' back on de medder is sing de gou-glou — 

W'en small sheep is firs' comin' out on de 
pasture, 
Deir nice leetle tail stickin' up on deir back, 
Dey ronne wit' deir moder, an' play wit' each 
oder 
An' jomp all de tarn jus' de sam' dey was 
crack — 

An' ole cow also, she 's glad winter is over, 
So she kick herse'f up, an' start off on de 
race 



The Habitant 3 

Wit' dc two-year-ole heifer, dat's purty soon 
lef her, 
W'y ev'ryt'ing's crazee all over de place! 

An' down on de reever de wil' duck is quackin' 
Along by de shore leetle san' piper ronn'e — 

De bullfrog he 's gr-rompin' an' dore is jompin' 
Dey all got deir own way for mak' it de 
forme. 

But spring 's in beeg hurry, an' don't stay long 
wit' us 
An' firs' t'ing we know, she go off till nex' 
year, 
Den bee commence hummin', for summer is 
comin' 
An' purty soon corn \s gettin' ripe on de ear. 

Dat's very nice tarn for wake up on de morning 
An' lissen de rossignol sing ev'ry place, 

Feel sout' win' a-blowin' sec clover a-growin' 
An' all de woiT laughin' itself on de face. 

Mos' ev'ry day raf it is pass on de rapide 
De voyageurs singin' some ole chanson 
'Bout girl down de reever — too bad dey mus' 

leave her, 
But comin' back soon' wit' beaucoup d'argent. 



4 The Habitant 

An' den w'en de fall an' de winter come roun' 

us 
An' bird of de summer is all fly away, 
W'en mebbe she 's snowin' an' nort' win' is 

blowin' 
An' night is mos' t'ree tarn so long as de day. 

You t'ink it was bodder de habitant farmer ? 

Not at all — he is happy an' feel satisfy, 
An' cole may las' good w'ile, so long as de 
wood-pile 

Is ready for burn on de stove by an' bye. 

W'en I got plaintee hay put away on de stable 
So de sheep an' de cow, dey got no chance 

to freeze, 
An' de hen all togedder — I don't min' de 

wedder — 
De nort' win' may blow jus' so moche as she 

please. 

An' some cole winter night how I wish you can 
see us, 
W'en I smoke on de pipe, an' de ole woman 
sew 
By de stove of T'ree Reever — ma wife's fader 
geev her 
On day we get marry, dat s long tarn ago — 



The Habitant 5 

De boy an' de girl, dey was readin' it's lesson, 

De cat on de corner she 's bite heem de pup, 

Ole " Carleau " he 's snorin' an' beeg stove is 

roarin' 

So loud dat I 'm scare purty soon she bus' 

up. 

Philomene — dat 's de oldes' — is sit on de 
winder 
An' kip jus' so quiet lak wan leetle mouse, 

She say de more finer moon never was shiner — 
Very fonny, for moon is n't dat side de 
house. 

But purty soon den, we hear foot on de outside, 
An' some wan is place it hees han' on de 
latch, 
Dat 's Isidore Goulay, las' fall on de Brule 
He 's tak' it firs' prize on de grand plough- 
in' match. 

Ha! ha! Philomene! — dat was smart trick you 
play us 
Come help de young feller tak' snow from 
hees neck, 
Dere 's not'ing for hinder you come off de 
winder 
Wen moon you was look for is come, I ex- 
pec' — 



6 The Habitant 

Isidore, he is tole us de news on de parish 
'Bout hees Lajeunesse Colt — travel two forty, 
sure, 
'Bout Jeremie Choquette, come back from 
Woonsocket 
An' t'ree new leetle twin on Madame Vail- 
lancour'. 

But nine o'clock strike, an' de chil'ren is 
sleepy, 
Mese'f an' olc woman can't stay up no more 
So alone by de fire — 'cos dey say dey ain't 
tire — 
We lef Philomene an' de young Isidore. 

I s'pose dey be talkin' beeg lot on de kitchen 
'Bout all de nice moon dey was see on de 
sky, 

For Philomene 's takin' long tarn get awaken 
Nex' day, she 's so sleepy on bote of de eye. 

Dat 's wan of dem ting's, ev'ry tarn on de 

fashion, 

An' 'bout nices' t'ing dat was never be seen. 

Got not'ing for say me — I spark it sam' way 

me 

Wen I go see de moder ma "ill Philomene. 



The Habitant 7 

We leev very quiet 'way back on de contree 
Don't put on sain style lak de big village, 
Wen we don't get de monee you t 'ink dat is 
fonny 
An' mak' plaintee sport on de Bottes Sau- 
vages. 

But I tole you— dat 's true — I don't go on de 
city 
If you geev de fine house an' beaucoup 
d 'argent — 
I rader be stay me, an' spen' de las' day me 
On farm by de rapide dat 's call Cheval 
Blanc. 




Wreck ° m JuliePlante 



G/f> 



<>/eyendjf^ac -Jffoerre. 



ON wan dark night on Lac St. Pierre, ' 
De win' she blow, blow, blow, 
An' de crew of de wood scow " Julie Plante 

Got scar't an' run below — 
For de win' she blow lak hurricane 

Bimeby she blow some more, 
An' de scow bus' up on Lac St. Pierre 
Wan arpent from de shore. 



De captinne walk on de fronte deck, 
An' walk de hin' deck too — 

He call de crew from up de hole 
He call de cook also. 

De cook she 's name was Rosie, 
She come from Montreal, 



Wreck of the "Julie Plante" 9 

Was chambre maid on lumber barge, 
On de Grande Lachine Canal. 

De win' she blow from nor'-eas'-wes,' — 

De sout' win' she blow too, 
Wen Rosie cry " Mon cher captinne, 

Mon cher, w'at I shall do ? " 
Den de Captinne t'row de big ankerre, 

But still the scow she dreef, 
De crew he can't pass on de shore, 

Becos' he los' hees skeef. 

De night was dark lak' wan black cat, 

De wave run high an' fas', 
Wen de captinne tak' de Rosie girl 

An' tie her to de mas'. 
Den he also tak' de life preserve, 

An' jomp off on de lak', 
An' say, " Good-bye, ma Rosie dear ? 

I go drown for your sak'." 

Nex' morning very early 

'Bout ha'f-pas' two — t'ree — four — 
De captinne — scow — an' de poor Rosie 

Was corpses on de shore. 
For de win' she blow lak' hurricane 

Bimeby she blow some more, 
An' de scow bus' up on Lac St. Pierre, 

Wan arpent from de shore. 



io The Habitant 

MORAL. 

Now all good wood scow sailor man 

Tak' warning by dat storm 
An' go an' marry some nice French girl 

An' leev on wan beeg farm. 
De win' can blow lak' hurricane 

An' s'pose she blow some more, 
You can't get drown on Lac St. Pierre 

So long you stay on shore. 




VENEZ ici, mon cher ami, an' sit down by 
me — so 
An' I will tole you story of old tarn long ago— 
Wen ev'ryt'ing is happy — w'en all de bird is 

sing 
A n * me i — I ' m young an' strong lak moose an' 

not afraid no t'ing. 



I close my eye jus' so, an' see de place w'ere 

I am born — 
I close my ear an' lissen to musique of de horn, 



12 The Habitant 

Dat 's horn ma dear ole moder blow — an only 

t'ing she play 
Is " viens done vite Napoleon — 'peche toi 

pour votre souper. " — 

An' w'en he 's hear dat nice musique — ma 
leetle dog " Carleau " 

Is place hees tail upon hees back — an' den 
he 's let heem go — 

He 's jomp on fence — he \s swimmin' crik — 
he 's ronne two forty gait, 

He say " dat 's somet'ing good for eat — Car- 
leau mus' not be late." 



O dem was pleasure day for sure, dem day of 

long ago 
W'en I was play wit' all de boy, an' all de girl 

also ; 
An' many tarn w'en I 'm alone an' t'ink of day 

gone by 
An' pull latire an' spark de girl, I cry upon my 

eye. 

Ma fader an' ma moder too, got nice, nice 

familee, 
Dat 's ten garcon an' t'orteen girl, was mak' it 

twenty t'ree 



Le Vieux Temps 13 

But fonny t'ing de Gouvernement don't geev 

de firs' prize den 
Lak w'at dey say dey geev it now, for only 

wan douzaine. 



De English peep dat only got wan familee 

small size 
Mus' be feel glad dat tarn dere is no honder 

acre prize 
For fader of twelve chil'ren — dey know dat 

mus' be so, 
De Canayens would boss Kebeck — mebbe 

Ontario. 



But dat is not de story dat I was gone tole 

you 
About de fun we use to have w'en we leev a 

chez nous 
We 're never lonesome on dat house, for many 

cavalier 
Come at our place mos' every night — especially 

Sun-day. 

But tarn I 'member bes' is w'en I 'm twenty 

wan year — me — 
An' so for mak' some pleasurement — we geev 

wan larg;e soiree 



H The Habitant 

De whole paroisse she be invite — de Cure he 's 

come too — 
Wit plaintee peep from 'noder place — dat 's 

more I can tole you. 

De night she 's cole an' freeze also, chemin 

she 's fill wit snow 
An' on de chimley lak phantome, de w r in' is 

mak' it blow — 
But boy an' girl come all de sam an' pass on 

grande parloir 
For warm itself on beeg box stove, was mak' 

on Trois Rivieres — 

An' w'en Bonhomme Latour commence for 

tune up hees fidelle 
It mak' us all feel very glad — l'enfant! he play 

so well, 
Musique suppose to be firs' class, I offen hear, 

for sure 
But mos' bes' man, beat all de res', is ole 

Bateese Latour — 



An' w'en Bateese play Irish jeeg, he 's learn 

on Mattawa 
Dat tarn he 's head boss cook Shaintee — den 

leetle Joe Leblanc 



Le Vieux Temps 15 

Tak' hole de beeg Marie Juneau an' dance upon 

de floor 
Till Marie say " Excuse to me, I cannot dance 

no more. " — 



An' den de Cure 's mak' de speech — ole Cure 

Ladouceur ! 
He say de girl was spark de boy too much on 

some cornerre — 
An' so he 's tole Bateese play up ole fashion 

reel a quatre 
An' every body she mus' dance, dey can't get 

off on dat. 



Away she go — hooraw ! hooraw ! plus fort 

Bateese, mon vieux 
Camille Bisson, please watch your girl — dat 's 

bes' t'ing you can do. 
Pass on de right an' tak' your place Mamzelle 

Des Trois Maisons 
You 're s'pose for dance on Paul Laberge, not 

Telesphore Gagnon. 

Mon oncle Al-fred, he spik lak' dat — 'cos he is 

boss de floor, 
An' so we do our possibill an' den commence 

encore. 



1 6 The Habitant 

Dern crowd of boy an' girl I'm sure keep up 

until nex' day 
If ole Bateese don't stop heseff, he come so 

fatigued 

An' affer dat, we eat some t'ing, tak' leetle 

drink also 
An' de Cure, he 's tole story of many year 

ago— 
Wen Iroquois sauvage she 's keel de Canaycns 

an' steal deir hair, 
An' say dat 's only for Bon Dieu, we don't be 

here— he don't be dere. 



But dat was mak' de girl feel scare — so all de 

cavalier 
Was ax hees girl go home right off, an' place 

her on de sleigh, 
An' w'en dey start, de Cure say, " Bonsoir et 

bon voyage 
Menagez-vous — tak' care for you — prenez- 

garde pour les sauvages." 

An' den I go meseff also, an' tak' ma belle 

Elmire — 
She 's nicer girl on whole Com to, an' jus' got 

eighteen year — 



Le Vieux Temps 17 

Black hair — black eye, an' chick rosee dat 's lak 

wan fameuse on de fall 
But don't spik much — not of dat kin', I can't 

say she love me at all. 



Ma girl — she's fader beeg farmeur— leev 'noder 

side St. Flore 
Got five-six honder acre — mebbe a leetle 

more — 
Nice sugar bush — une belle maison — de bes' I 

never see — 
So w'en I go for spark Elm ire, I don't be mak' 

de foolish me — 



Elmire! — she 's pass t'rec year on school — Ste. 

Anne de la Perade 
An' w'en she 's tak' de firs' class prize, dat 's 

mak' de ole man glad ; 
He say " Ba gosh — ma girl can wash — can keep 

de kitchen clean 
Den change her dress — mak' politesse before 

God save de Queen." 

Dey 's many way for spark de girl, an' you 

know dat of course, 
Some way dey might be better way, an' some 

dey might be worse 



iS The Habitant 

But I lak' sit some cole night wit' my girl on 

ole burleau 

Wit' lot of hay keep our foot warm — an' 

plaintee buffalo — 

Dat 's geev good chances get acquaint — an' if 

burleau upset 
An' t'row you out upon de snow — dat 's better 

chances yet — 
An' if you help de girl go home, if horse he 

ronne away 
De girl she \s not much use at all — don't geev 

you nice baiser! 

Dat 's very well for fun ma frien', but w'en 

you spark for keep 
She \s not sam t'ing an' mak' you feel so scare 

lak' leetle sheep 
Some tarn you get de fever — some tarn you 're 

lak snowball 
An' all de tarn you ack lak' fou — can't spik no 

t'ing at all. 

Wall! dat \s de way I feel meseff, wit Elmire 

on burleau, 
Jus' lak' small dog try ketch hees tail — roun' 

roun' ma head she go 



Le Vieux Temps 19 

But bimeby I come more brave— an' tak' El- 
mire she's han' 

" Laisse-moi tranquille " Elmire she say " You 
mus' be crazy man." 

" Yass — yass I say " mebbe you t'ink I 'm wan 

becg loup garou, 
Dat 's forty t'ousand 'noder girl, I lef dem all 

for you, 
I s'pose you know Polique Gauthier your fnen' 

on St. Cesaire 
I ax her marry me nex' wick — she tak me — I 

don't care." 

Ba gosh; Elmire she don't lak dat— it mak' 

her feel so mad — 
She commence cry, say " 'Poleon you treat me 

very bad — 
I don't lak see you t'row you'seff upon Polique 

Gauthier, 
So if you say you love me sure — we mak' de 

mariee." — 

Oh it was fine tarn affer dat — Castor I t'ink he 

know, 
We 're not too busy for get home— he go so 

nice an' slow, 



20 The Habitant 

He 's only upset t'ree — four tam — an' jus' 

about daylight 
We pass upon de ole man's place — an' every 

t'ing 's all right. 

Wall ! we leev happy on de farm for nearly 

fifty year, 
Till wan day on de summer tam — she die — ma 

belle Elmire 
I feel so lonesome lef behin' — I tink 't was 

bes' mebbe — 
Dat w'en le Bon Dieu tak' ma famme — he 

should not forget me. 

But dat is hees biz-nesse ma frien' — I know 

dat 's all right dere 
I '11 wait till he call "Toleon " den I will be 

prepare — 
An' w'en he fin' me ready, for mak' de longue 

voyage 
He guide me t'roo de wood hesef upon ma las' 

portage. 



" DE PAPINEAU GUN." 



AN INCIDENT OF THE CANADIAN REBELLION 
OF 1837. 

BON jour, M'sieu' — -you want to know 
'Bout dat ole gun — w'at good she 's for ? 
W'y! Jean Bateese Bruneau — mon pere, 
Fight wit' dat gun on Pap'neau War! 

Long tarn since den you say — C'est vrai, 
An' me too young for 'member well, 

But how de patriot fight an' die, 
I offen hear de ole folk tell. 

De English don't ack square dat tarn, 
Don't geev de habitants no show, 

So 'long come Wolf red Nelson 
Wit' Louis Joseph Papineau. 

An' swear de peep mus' have deir right, 

Wolfred he 's write Victoriaw, 
But she 's no good, so den de war 

Commence amomr de habitants. 



22 The Habitant 

Mon pere he leev to Grande Brule 
So smarter man you never see, 

Was alway on de grande hooraw ! 
Plain tee w'at you call " Esprit! 

An* vv'en dey form wan compagnie 
All dress wit' tuque an' ceinture sash, 

Ma fader tak' hees gun wit' heem 
An' marche away to Saint Eustache, 

Were many patriots was camp 

Wit' brave Chenier, deir Capitaine, 

W'en 'long come English Generale, 
An' more two t'ousan' sojer man. 

De patriot dey go on church 

An' feex her up deir possibill ; 
Dey fight deir bes', but soon fin' out 
Canon de bois " no good for kill. 

An' den de church she come on fire, 
An' burn almos' down to de groun', 

So w'at you t'ink our man can do 
Wit' all dem English armee roun' ? 

'Poleon, hees sojer never fight 

More brave as dem poor habitants, 

Chenier, he try for broke de rank 
Chenier come dead immcdiatement. 



" De Papineau Gun" 23 

He fall near w'ere de cross is stan' 

Upon de ole church cimitiere, 
Wit' Jean Poulin an' Laframboise 

An' plaintee more young feller dere. 

De gun dey rattle lak' tonnere 

Jus' bang, bang, bang! dat 's way she go, 
An' wan by wan de brave man 's fall 

An' red blood 's cover all de snow. 

Ma fader shoot so long he can 

An' den he 's load hees gun some more, 
Jomp on de ice behin' de church 

An' pass heem on de 'noder shore. 

Wall! he reach home fore very long 

An' keep perdu for many day, 
Till ev'ry t'ing she come tranquille, 

An' sojer man all gone away. 

An' affer dat we get our right, 

De Canayens don't fight no more, 

Ma fader's never shoot dat gun, 
But place her up above de door. 

An' Papineau, an' Nelson too 

Dey 're gone long tarn, but we are free, 
Le Bon Dieu have 'em 'way up dere. 

Salut, Wolfred! Salut, Louis! 



«■ now 



! 

BATEE5E 1 



CAME 
llli] HOME 







CTPi 






W'EN I was young boy on de farm, dat 's 
twenty year ago 
I have wan frien' he 's leev near me, call Jean 

Bateese Trudeau 
An off en w'en we are alone, we lak for spik 

about 
De tarn w'en we was come beeg man, wit' 
moustache on our mout'. 

Bateese is get it on hees head, he 's too moche 

educate 
For mak' de habitant farmerre — he better go 

on State — 



24 



How Bateese Came Home 25 

An' so wan summer evening we 're drivin' 

home de cow 
He 's tole me all de whole beez-nesse — jus' lak 

you hear me now. 

' Wat \s use mak' foolish on de farm ? dere 's 

no good chances lef 
An' all de tarn you be poor man — you know 

dat 's true you'se'f ; 
We never get no fun at all — don't never go on 

spree 
Onless we pass on 'noder place, an' mak' it 

some monee. 

I go on Les Etats Unis, I go dere right away 
An' den mebbe on ten-twelve year, I be riche 

man some day, 
An' w'en I mak' de large fortune, I come back 

I s'pose 
Wit' Yankee famme from off de State, an' 

monee on my clothes. 

I tole you somet'ing else also — mon cher 

Napoleon 
I get de grande majorite, for go on parliament 
Den buil' fine house on borde l'eau — near w'ere 

de church is stand 
More finer dan de Presbytere, w'en I am come 

riche man ! " 



26 The Habitant 

I say " For w'at you spik lak dat ? you must 

be gone crazee 
Dere 's plaintee feller on de State, more 

smarter dan you be, 
Beside she 's not so healtee place, an' if you 

mak' 1' argent, 
You spen' it jus' lak Yankee man, an' not lak 

habitant. 

For me Bateese! I tole you dis : I 'm very 

satisfy — 
De bes' man don't leev too long tarn, some 

day Ba Gosh ! he die — 
An' s'pose you got good trotter horse, an' nice 

famine Canadienne 
Wit' plaintee on de house for eat — W'at more 

you want ma frien' ? " 



But Bateese have it all mak' up, I can't stop 

him at all 
He 's buy de seconde classe tiquette, for go on 

Central Fall — 
An' wit' two-t'ree some more de boy, — w'at 

t'ink de sam' he do 
Pass on de train de very nex' wick, was lef 

Riviere du Loup. 



How Bateese Came Home 27 

Wall ! mebbe fifteen year or more, since Bateese 

go away 
I fin' mesef Riviere du Loup, wan cole, cole 

winter day 
De quick express she comehooraw! but stop 

de soon she can 
An' beeg swell feller jomp off car, dat 's boss 

by nigger man. 



He 's dressim on de premiere classe, an' got 

new suit of clothes 
Wit' long moustache dat 's stickim out, de 

'noder side hees nose 
Fine gol' watch chain — nice portmanteau — an' 

long, long overcoat 
Wit' beaver hat— dat 's Yankee style— an' red 

tie on hees t'roat — 



I say" Hello Bateese! Hello! Comment ca va 

mon vieux ? " 
He say " Excuse to me, ma frien' I t'ink I 

don't know you." 
I say, " She 's very curis t'ing, you are Bateese 

Trudeau, 
Was raise on jus' sam' place wit' me, dat 's 

fifteen year ago ? " 



28 The Habitant 

He say, " Oh yass dat 's sure enough — I know 

you now firs' rate, 
But I forget mos' all ma French since I go on 

de State. 
Dere 's 'noder t'ing kip on your head, ma frien' 

dey mus' be tole 
Ma name 's Bateese Trudeau no more, but 

John B. Waterhole! " 



Hole on de water 's " fonny name for man 

w'at 's call Trudeau 
Ma frien's dey all was spik lak dat, an' I am 

tole heem so — 
He say " Trudeau an' Waterhole she 's jus' 

about de sam' 
An' if you go for leev on State, you must have 

Yankee nam'." 



Den we invite heem come wit' us, " Hotel du 

Canadaw " 
Were he was treat mos' ev'ry tarn, but can't 

tak' w'isky blanc, 
He say dat 's leetle strong for man jus' come 

off Central Fall 
An' " tabac Canayen " bedamme! he won't 

smoke dat at all! — 



How Bateese Came Home 29 

But fancy drink lak " Collings John " de way- 
he put it down 

Was long tarn since I don't see dat — I t'ink 
he 's goin' drown ! — 

An' fine cigar cos' five cent each, an' mak' on 
Trois-Rivieres 

L'enfant! he smoke beeg pile of dem — for 
monee he don't care! — - 



I s'pose meseff it 's t'ree o'clock w'en we are 

t'roo dat night 
Bateese, hees fader come for heem, an' tak' 

heem home all right 
De ole man say Bateese spik French, w'en he 

is place on bed — 
An' say bad word — -but w'en he wake — forget 

it on hees head — 



Wall! all de winter w'en we have soiree dat 's 

grande affaire 
Bateese Trudeau, dit Waterhole, he be de boss 

man dere — 
You bet he have beeg tarn, but w'en de spring 

is come encore 
He 's buy de premiere classe tiquette for go on 

State some more. 



3o The Habitant 

You 'member w'en de hard tarn come on Les 

Etats Unis 
An' plaintee Canayens go back for stay deir 

own con tree ? 
Wall! jus' about 'dat tarn again I go Riviere 

du Loup 
For sole me two t'ree load of hay — mak' leetle 

visit too — 



De freight train she is jus' arrive — only ten 

hour delay — 
She 's never carry passengaire — dat 's w'at dey 

always say — 
I see poor man on char caboose — he 's got 

heem small valise 
Begosh ! I nearly tak' de fit,— It is — it is 

Bateese ! 



He know me very well dis tarn, an' say "Bon 

jour, mon vieux 
I hope you know Bateese Trudeau was educate 

wit' you 
I 'm jus' come off de State to see ma familee 

encore 
I bus' mesef on Central Fall — I don't go dere 

no more. " 



How Bateese Came Home 3 1 

" I got no monee — not at all — I 'm broke it up 

for sure — 
Dat 's locky t'ing, Napoleon, de brakeman 

Joe Latour 
He 's cousin of wan frien' of me call Camille 

Valiquette, 
Conductor too 's good Canayen — don't ax me 

no tiquette. " 



I tak' Bateese wit' me once more " Hotel du 

Canadaw " 
An' he was glad for get de chance drink some 

good w'isky blanc ! 
Dat \s warm heem up, an den he eat mos' 

ev'ryt'ing he see, 
I watch de w'ole beez-nesse mese'f — Monjee! 

he was honcree ! 



Madame Charette wat 's kip de place get very 

much excite 
For see de many pork an' bean Bateese put out 

of sight 
Du pain dore — potate pie — an' 'noder t'ing be 

dere 
But w'en Bateese is get heem t'roo — dey go I 

don't know w'ere. 



32 The Habitant 

It don't tak' long for tole de news " Bateese 
come off de State " 

An' purty soon we have beeg crowd, lak vil- 
lage she 's en fete 

Bonhomme Maxime Trudeau hese'f, he 's 
comin' wit' de pries' 

An' pass' heem on de " Room for eat " w'ere 
he is see Bateese. 



Den ev'rybody feel it glad, for watch de em- 

brasser 
An' bimeby de ole man spik " Bateese you 

here for stay ? " 
Bateese he 's cry lak beeg bebe, " Ba. j'eux 

rester ici. 
An if I never see de State, I 'm sure I don't 

care — me." 



" Correc'," Maxime is say right off, " I place 

you on de farm 
For help your poor ole fader, won't do you too 

moche harm 
Please come wit' me on Magasin, I feex you 

up — ba oui 
An' den you 're ready for go home an' see de 

familee." 



How Bateese Came Home 33 

Wall! w'en de ole man an' Bateese come off de 
Magasin 

Bateese is los' hees Yankee clothes — he 's dress 
lak Canayen 

Wit' bottes sauvages — ceinture Heche — an' 
coat wit' capuchon 

An' spik Francais au naturel, de sam' as habi- 
tant. 

I see Bateese de oder day, he 's work hees 
fader's place 

I t'ink mese'f he \s satisfy — 1 see dat on hees 
face 

He say " I got no use for State, mon cher Na- 
poleon 

Kebeck she 's good enough for me — Hooraw 
pour Canadaw. " 




YOU can pass on de worl' w'erever you lak, 
Tak' de steamboat for go Angleterre, 
Tak' car on de State, an' den you come back, 

An' go all de place, I don't care — 
Ma frien' dat 's a fack, I know you will say, 

Wen you come on dis contree again, 
Dere 's no girl can touch, w'at we see ev'ry day, 
De nice leetle Canadienne. 



Don't matter how poor dat girl she may be, 
Her dress is so neat an' so clean, 

Mos' ev'ry wan t'ink it was mak' on Paree 
An' she wear it, wall! jus' lak de Queen. 



34 



De Nice Leetle Canadienne 35 

Den come for fin' out she is mak' it herse'f, 
For she ain't got moche monee for spen', 
But all de sam' tarn, she was never get lef, 
Dat nice leetle Canadienne. 

Wen " un vrai Canayen " is mak' it mariee, 

You t'ink he go leev on beeg flat 
An' bodder hese'f all de tarn, night an' day, 

Wit' housemaid, an' cook, an' all dat ? 
Not moche, ma dear frien', he tak' de maison, 

Cos' only nine dollar or ten, 
Were he leev lak blood rooster, an' save de 
1' argent, 

Wit' hees nice leetle Canadienne. 

I marry ma famine w'en I 'm jus' twenty year, 

An' now we got fine familee, 
Dat skip roun' de place lak leetle small deer, 

No smarter crowd you never see — 
An' I t'ink as I watch dem all chasin' about, 

Four boy an' six girl, she mak' ten, 
Dat 's help mebbe kip it, de stock from run out, 
Of de nice leetle Canadienne. 

O she 's quick an' she 's smart, an' got plain- 
tee heart, 

If you know correc' way go about, 
An' if you don't know, she soon tole you so 

Den tak' de firs' chance an' get out; 



36 The Habitant 

But if she love you, I spik it for true, 
She will mak' it more beautiful den, 
An' sun on de sky can't shine lak de eye 
Of dat nice leetle Canadienne. 



Efeff'iS ^ j ^^*:^,£y £ "^'"^J 






'POLEON DORE. 

A TALE OF THE SAINT MAURICE. 

YOU have never hear de story of de young 
Napoleon Dore ? 
Los' hees life upon de reever w'en de lumber 
drive go down ? 
Were de rapide roar lak tonder, dat \s de place 
he 's goin' onder, 
W'en he 's try save Paul Desjardins, 'Poleon 
hese'f is drown. 



All de winter on de Shaintee, tarn she 's good, 
and work she 's pJaintee, 
But we 're not feel very sorry, w'en de sun 
is warm hees face, 
W'en de mooshrat an' de beaver, tak' some 
leetle swim on reever. 
An' de sout' win' scare de snowbird, so she 
fly some col'er place. 

37 



33 The Habitant 

Den de spring is set in steady, an' we get de 
log all ready, 
Workin' hard all day an' night too, on de 
water mos' de tarn, 
An' de skeeter w'en dey fin' us, come so quickly 
nearly blin' us, 
Biz — biz — biz — biz — all aroun' us till we feel 
lak sacredam. 



All de sam' we 're hooraw feller, from de top 
of house to cellar, 
Ev'ry boy he 's feel so happy, w'en he 's 
goin' right away, 
See hees fader an' hees moder, see hees sister 
an' hees broder, 
An' de girl he spark las' summer, if she 's 
not get mariee. 



Wall we start heem out wan morning, an' de 
pilot geev us warning, 
W'en you come on Rapide Cuisse, ma 
frien', keep raf she's head on shore, 
If you struck beeg rock on middle, w'ere le 
diable is play hees fiddle, 
Dat 's de tarn you pass on some place, you 
don't never pass before." 



'Poleon Dore 39 

But we '11 not t'ink moche of danger, for de 
rapide she 's no stranger 
Many tarn we 're runnin' t'roo it, on de fall 
an' on de spring, 
On mos' ev'ry kin' of wedder dat le Bon Dieu 
scrape togedder, 
An' we '11 never drown noboddy, an' we '11 
never bus' somet'inc 



Dere was Telesphore Montbriand, Paul Desjar- 
dins, Louis Guyon, 
Bill McKeever, Aleck Gauthier, an' hees 
cousin Jean Bateese, 
'Poleon Dore, Aime Beaulieu, wit' some more 
man I can't tole you, 
Dat was mak' it bes' gang never run upon de 
St. Maurice. 



Dis is jus' de tarn I wish me, I could spik de 
good English — me — 
For tole you of de pleasurement we get upon 
de spring, 
Wen de win' she \s all a sleepin', an' de raf 
she go a svveepin' 
Down de reever on some morning, w'ile le 
rossignol is sing. 



4o The Habitant 

Ev'ryt'ing so nice an' quiet on de shore as we 
pass by it, 
All de tree got fine new spring suit, ev'ry 
wan she's dress on green 
W'y it mak' us all more younger, an' we don't 
feel any hunger, 
Till de cook say " 'Raw for breakfas'," den 
we smell de pork an' bean. 



Some folk say she 's bad for leever, but for man 
work hard on reever, 
Dat 's de bes' t'ing I can tole you, dat was 
never yet be seen, 
Course dere 's oder t'ing ah tak' me, fancy dish 
also I lak me, 
But w'en I want somet'ing solid, please pass 
me de pork an' bean. 



All dis tarn de raf she 's goiu' lak steamboat 
was got us towin' 
All we do is keep de channel, an' dat 's easy 
workin' dere, 
So we sing some song an' chorus, for de good 
tarn dat 's before us, 
W'en de w'ole beez-nesse she 's finish, an' 
we come on Trois Rivieres. 



'Polcon Dore 4 1 

But bad luck is sometam fetch us, for beeg 
strong win' come an' ketch us, 
Jus' so soon we struck de rapide — jus' so 
soon we see de smoke, 
An' before we spik some prayer for ourse'f dat 
's fightin' dere, 
Roun' we come upon de beeg rock, an' it 's 
den de raf she broke. 



Dat was tarn poor Paul Desjardins, from de 
parish of St. Germain, 
He was long way on de fronte side, so he 's 
fallin' overboar' 
Could n't swim at all de man say, but dat's 
more ma frien', I can say, 
Any how he \s look lak drownin', so we '11 
t'row him two t'ree oar. 



Dat 's 'bout all de help our man do, dat 's 
'bout ev'ryt'ing we can do, 
As de crib we 're hangin' onto balance on 
de rock itse'f, 
Till de young Napoleon Dore, heem I start 
for tole de story, 
Holler out, " Mon Dieu, I don't lak see poor 
Paul eo drown hese'f. " 



42 The Habitant 

So he 's mak' beeg jomp on water, jus' de sam' 
you see some otter 
An' he 's pass on place w'ere Paul is tryin' 
hard for keep afloat, 
Den we see Napoleon ketch heem, try hees 
possibill for fetch heem 
But de current she 's more stronger, an' de 
eddy get dem bote. 



O Mon Dieu ! for see dem two man, mak' me 
feel it cry lak woman, 
Roun' an' roun' upon de eddy, quickly dem 
poor feller go, 
Can't tole wan man from de oder, an' we '11 
know dem bote lak broder, 
But de fight she soon is finish — Paul an' 
'Poleon eo below. 



Yass, an' all de tarn we stay dere, only t'ing 
we do is pray dere, 
For de soul poor drownin' feller, dat 's 
enough mak' us feel mad, 
Torteen voyageurs, all brave man, glad get any 
chances save man, 
But we don't see no good chances, can't do 
not'ing, dat 's too bad. 



'Poleon Dore 43 

Wall! at las' de crib she 's come way off de 
rock, an' den on some way, 
By an' by de w'ole gang 's passin' on safe 
place below de Cuisse, 
Ev'ryboddy's heart she 's breakin', w'en dey 
see poor Paul he 's taken 
Wit' de young Napoleon Dore, bes' boy on 
de St. Maurice! 



An' day affer, Bill McKeever fin' de bote man 
on de reever, 
Wit' deir arm aroun' each oder, mebbe pass 
above dat way — 
So we bury dem as we fin' dem, w'ere de pine 
tree wave behin' dem 
An de Grande Montagne he 's lookin' down 
on Marcheterre Bay. 



You can't hear no church bell ring dere, but le 
rossignol is sing dere, 
An' w'ere ole red cross she 's stannin', mebbe 
some good ange gardien, 
Watch de place w'ere bote man sleepin', keep 
de reever grass from creepin' 
On de grave of 'Poleon Dore, an' of poor 
Paul Desjardins. 



9 




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M'SIEU Paul Joulin, ^|j/'iCT 
deNotairePub- mM^g 

Is come I s'posc //// , // J^A\X^ 
seexty year hees MBA 1 

, Bfe . . ^EWl 

An' de mos' riche man on 
Sainte Angelique 
Wen he feel very sorry 
he got no wife— 
So he 's paint heem hees 
buggy, lak new, by Gor! 
Put flower on hees coat, mak' hese'f more 

gay 

Arrange on hees head fine chapeau castor 
An' drive on de house of de Boulanirer. 



For de Boulanger "s got heem une jolie fille 
Mos' bes' lookin' girl on paroisse dey say 



44 



"De Notaire Publique" 45 

An' all de young feller is lak Julie 

An' plaintee is ax her for mak' mariee, 

But Julie she 's love only jus' wan man, 
Hees nam' it is Jeremie Dandurand 

An' he 's work for her sak' all de hard he can' 
'Way off on de wood, up de Mattawa. 

M'Sieu Paul he spik him " Bonjour Mamzelle, 

You lak promenade on de church wit' me ? 
Jus' wan leetle word an' we go ma belle 

An' see heem de Cure toute suite, cherie ; 
I dress you de very bes' style a la mode, 

If you promise for be Madame Paul Joulin, 
For I got me fine house on Bord a Plouffe road 

Wit' mor'gage also on de Grande Moulin." 

But Julie she say " Non, non, M'Sieu Paul, 

Dat 's not correc' t'ing for poor Jeremie 
For I love dat young feller lak not'ing at all, 

An' I 'm very surprise you was not know me. 
Jeremie w'en he 's geev me dat nice gol' ring, 

Las' tarn he 's gone off on de Mattawa 
Say he 's got 'noder wan w'en he 's come nex' 
spring 

Was mak' me for sure Madame Dandurand. 

" I t'ank you de sam' M'Sieu Paul Joulin 
I s'pose I mus' be de wife wan poor man 



46 The Habitant 

Wit' no chance at all for de Grande Moulin, 
But leev all de tarn on some small cabane." 

De Notaire Publique den is tak' hees hat, 
For he t'ink sure enough dat hees dog she 's 
dead ; 

Dere 's no use mak' love on de girl lak dat, 
Wit' not'ing but young feller on de head. 



Julie she 's feel lonesome mos' all dat week, 

Don't know w'at may happen she wait till 
spring 
Den t'ink de fine house of Notaire Publique 

An' plaintee more too — but love 's funny 
t'ing! 
So nex' tarn she see de Notaire again, 

She laugh on her eye an' say " M'Sieu Paul 
Please pass on de house, or you ketch de rain, 

Dat 's very long tarn you don't come at all." 



She 's geev him so soon he 's come on de door 

Du vin de pays, an' some nice galettes, 
She 's mak' dem herse'f only day before 

An' he say " Bigosh ! dat is fine girl yet." 
So he 's try hees chances some more- — hooraw! 

Julie is not mak' so moche troub' dis tarn; 
She 's forget de poor Jeremie Dandurand 

An' tole de Notaire she will be hees famme. 



" De Notarie Publique " 47 

Wen Jeremie come off de wood nex' spring, 

An' fin' dat hees girl she was get mariee 
Everybody 's expec' he will do somet'ing, 

But he don't do not'ing at all, dey say; 
For he 's got 'noder girl on Sainte Dorothee, 

Dat he 's love long tarn, an' she don't say 
" No," 
So he 's forget too all about Julie 

An' mak' de mariee wit' hese'f also. 










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" MAXIME LABELLE." 

VICTORIAW: she have beeg war, E-gyp 's 
de nam' de place — 
An' neeger peep dat \s leev 'im dere, got very 

black de face. 
An' so she 's write Joseph Mercier, he \s stop 

on Trois Rivieres — 
" Please come right off, an' bring wit' you t'ree 
honder voyageurs. 

4S 



"Maxime Labelle" 49 

" I got de plaintee sojer, me, beeg feller six foot 
tall - 

Dat 's Englishman, an' Scotch also, don't wear 
no pant at all ; 

Of course, de Irishman 's de bes', raise all de 
row he can, 

But noboddy can pull batteau lak good Cana- 
dian man. 



" I geev you steady job for sure, an' w'en you 

get 'im t'roo 
I bring you back on Canadaw, don't cos' de 

man un sou, 
Dat 's firs' -class steamboat all de way Kebeck 

an' Leeverpool, 
An' if you don't be satisfy, you nins' be beeg, 

beeg fool." 



We meet upon Hotel Dufresne, an' talk heem 
till daylight, 

An' Joe he 's treat^c\,many tarn, we very near 
get tight, 

Den affer w'ile, we mak' our min' dat 's not 
bad chance, an' so 

Joseph Mercier he 's telegraph, " Correc', Ma- 
dame, we go." 



50 The Habitant 

So Joe arrange de whole beez-nesse wit' Queen 

Victoriaw ; 
Two dollar day — work all de tarn — dat 's purty 

good l'argent ! 
An' w'en we start on Trois Rivieres, for pass 

on boar' de ship, 
Our frien' dey all say, " Bon voyage," an' den 

Hooraw ! E-gyp' ! 



Dat beeg steamboat was plonge so moche, I 'm 

'fraid she never stop — 
De Capitaine 's no use at all, can't kip her on 

de top — 
An' so we all come very sick, jus' lak one leetle 

, PU ?' 
An' ev'ry tarn de ship 's go down, de inside 

she 's go up. 



I 'm sorry spoke lak dis, ma frien', if you 

don't t'ink it 's so, 
Please ax Joseph Mercier hese'f, or Aleck De 

Courteau, 
Dat stay on bed mos' all de tarn, so sick dey 

nearly die, 
But lak' some great, beeg Yankee man, was 

never tole de lie. 



"Maxime Labelle" 5 1 

De gang she 's travel, travel, t'roo many 
strange contree, 

An' ev'ry place is got new nam', I don't re- 
member, me, 

We see some fonny t'ing, for sure, more fonny 
I can tell, 

But w'en we reach de Neel Riviere, dat 's feel 
more naturel. 



So many fine, beeg sojer man, I never see be- 
fore, 

All dress heem on grand uniform, is wait upon 
de shore, 

Some black, some green, an' red also, cos' 
honder dollar sure, 

An' holler out, " She 's all right now, here 
come de voyageurs! " 



We see boss Generale also, he 's ride on beeg 

chameau, 
Dat 's w'at you call Ca-melle, I t'ink, I laugh 

de way she go ! 
Jomp up, jomp down, jomp ev'ry place, but 

still de Generale 
Seem satisfy for stay on top, dat fonny an-i- 

mal. 



52 The Habitant 

He 's holler out on Joe Mercier, " Comment 

ca va Joseph 
You lak for come right off wit' me, tak' leetle 

ride yourseff ? " 
Joseph, he mak' de grand salut, an' tak' it off 

hees hat, 
" Merci, Mon Generale," he say, " I got no use 

for dat." 



Den affer we was drink somet'ing, an' sing 

Le Brigadier," 
De sojer fellers get prepare, for mak' de em- 

barquer, 
An' everybody 's shout heem out, w'en we 

tak' hole de boat 
" Hooraw pour Queen Victoriaw ! " an' also 

" pour nous autres. " 



Bigosh ; I do hard work mese'f upon de Ot- 
tawa, 

De Gatineau an' St. Maurice, also de Mat- 
tawa, 

But I don't never work at all, I 'sure you dat 's 
a fack 

Until we strike de Neel Riviere, an* sapre 
Catarack ! 



"Maxime Labelle" 53 

" Dis way, dat way, can't keep her straight," 

' look out, Bateese, look out ! " 
" Now let her go " — " arrete un peu," dat 's 

way de pilot shout, 
" Don't wash de neeger girl on shore," an' 

" prenez garde behin'," 
" Wat 's matter wit' dat rudder man ? I t'ink 

he 's groin' blin' ! " 



Some tarn of course, de boat 's all right, an' 
carry us along 

An' den again, we mak portage, w'en current 
she 's too strong 

On place lak' dat, we run good chance, for sun- 
struck on de neck, 

An' plaintee tarn we wish ourseff was back on 
ole Kebeck. 



De seconde Catarack we pass, more beeger dan 
de Soo, 

She 's nearly t'orty mile for sure, it would as- 
tonish you, 

Dat 's place t'ree Irishman get drown, wan day 
we have beeg storm, 

I s'pose de Queen is feel lak cry, los' dat nice 
uniform ! 



54 The Habitant 

De night she 's very, very cole, an' hot upon 

de day, 
An' all de tarn, you feel jus' lak you 're goin' 

melt away, 
But never min' an' don't get scare, you mak' 

it up all right, 
An' twenty poun' you los' dat day, she 's 

comin' back sam' night. 



We got small bugle boy also, he 's mebbe stan' 

four foot, 
An' firs' t'ing ev'ry morning, sure, he mak' it 

toot! toot! toot! 
She 's nice enough upon de day, for hear de 

bugle call, 
But w'en she play before daylight, I don't lak 

dat at all. 



We mils' get up immediatement, dat leetle 

feller blow, 
An' so we start heem off again, for pull de 

beeg batteau, 
De sojer man he 's nice, nice boy, an' help us 

all he can, 
An' geev heem chance, he 's mos' as good lak 

some Canadian man. 



"Maxime Labellc " 55 

Wall all de tarn, she go lak dat, was busy every 

day, 
Don't get moche chance for foolish-ness, don't 

get no chance for play, 
Dere 's plaintee danger all aroun', an' w'en 

we 're comin' back 
We got look out for run heem safe, dem sapre 

Catarack. 



But w'ere 's de war ? I can't mak' out, don't 

see no fight at all ! 
She 's not'ing but une Grande Piqnique, dat 's 

las' in all de fall ! 
Mebbe de neeger King he 's scare, an' skip 

anoder place, 
An' pour la Reine Victoriaw ! I never see de 

face. 



But dat 's not ma beez-nesse, ma frien', I 'm 

ready pull batteau 
So long she pay two dollar day, wit' pork an' 

bean also ; 
An' if she geev me steady job, for mak' some 

more 1 'argent, 
I say, " Hoorawi for all de tarn, on Queen 

Victoriaw! " 




O SPIRIT of the mountain that speaks to 
us to-night, 
Your voice is sad, yet still recalls past visions 

of delight, 
When 'mid the grand old Laurentides, old 

when the earth was new, 
With flying feet we followed the moose and 
caribou. 



And backward rush sweet memories, like frag- 
ments of a dream, 

We hear the dip of paddle blades, the ripple of 
the stream, 

56 



Memories 5 7 

The mad, mad rush of frightened wings from 

brake and covert start, 
The breathing of the woodland, the throb of 

nature's heart. 



Once more beneath our eager feet the forest 

carpet springs. 
We march through gloomy valleys, where the 

vesper sparrow sings. 
The little minstrel heeds us not, nor stays his 

plaintive song, 
As with our brave coureurs de bois we swiftly 

pass along. 

Again o'er dark Wayagamack, in bark canoe 

we glide, 
And watch the shades of evening glance along 

the mountain side. 
Anon we hear resounding the wizard loon's 

wild cry, 
And mark the distant peak whereon the lin- 

e'rino- echoes die. 



But Spirit of the Northland! let the winter 

breezes blow, 
And cover every giant crag with rifts of driving 

snow. 



58 The Habitant 

Freeze eveiy leaping torrent, bind all the crys- 
tal lakes, 

Tell us of fiercer pleasures when the Storm 
Kiner awakes. 



And now the vision changes, the winds are 

loud and shrill, 
The falling flakes are shrouding the mountain 

and the hill, 
But safe within our snug cabane with comrades 

gathered near, 
We set the rafters ringing with " Roulant 

and " Brigadier. " 



Then after Pierre and Telesphore have danced 

Le Caribou," 
Some hardy trapper tells a tale of the dreaded 

Loup Garou, 
Or phantom bark in moonlit heavens, with 

prow turned to the East, 
Bringing the Western voyageurs to join the 

Christmas feast. 



And while each backwoods troubadour is 

greeted with huzza 
Slowly the homely incense of " tabac Cana- 

yen " 



Memories 59 

Rises and sheds its perfume like flowers of 

Araby, 
O 'er all the true-born loyal Enfants de la 
Patrie. 



And thus with song and story, with laugh and 

jest and shout, 
We heed not dropping mercury nor storms 

that rage without, 
But pile the huge logs higher till the chimney 

roars with glee, 
And banish spectral visions with La Chanson 

Normandie. 

Brigadier! repondit Pandore 

Brigadier! vous avez raison, 

Brigadier! repondit Pandore, 

Brigadier! vous avez raison! " 

O spirit of the mountain! that speaks to us 

to-night, 
Return again and bring us new dreams of past 

delight, 
And while our heart-throbs linger, and till our 

pulses cease, 
We '11 worship thee among the hills where 

flows the Saint-Maurice. 






' ■>., I 



'////.■ 




>-& 



M PHILORUM 
JUNEAU 




A STORY OF THE " CHASSE GALLERIE. 

In tlie clays of the "Old Regime *' in Canada, the free life 
of the woods and prairies proved too tempting for the young 
men, who frequently deserted civilization for the savage de- 
lights of the wilderness. These voyageurs and coureurs de bois 
seldom returned in the flesh, but on every New Year's Eve, 
back thro' snowstorm and hurricane — -in mid-air — came their 
spirits in ghostly canoes, to join, for a brief spell, the old folks 
at home and kiss the girls, on the annual feast of the " four 
de l'an," or New Year's Day. The legend which still survives 
in French-speaking Canada, is known as "La Cliasse Gallerie." 



60 



Phil-o-rum Juneau 61 

HE sit on de corner mos' every night, ole 
Phil-o-rum Juneau, 
Spik wit' hese'f an' shake de head, an' smoke 

on de pipe also — 
Very hard job it 's for wake him up, no matter 

de loud we call 
Wen he \s feex hese'f on de beeg arm-chair, 
back on de kitchen wall. 



He don't believe not'ing at all, at all 'bout 

kites' new fashion t'ing 
Le char 'lectrique an' de telephome, was talk 

w'en de bell she ring 
Dat 's leetle too moche for de ole bonhomme, 

mak' him shake it de head an' say 
Wat's use mak' de foolish lak dat, sapre ! 

I 'm not born only yesterday." 



But if you want story dat \s true, true, true, I 

tole you good wan moi-meme 
An de t'ing you was spik, dat I don't believe, 

for sure she was beat all dem. 
So he 's cough leetle cough, clear 'im up de 

t'roat, fill hees pipe wit' some more tabac, 
An' w'en de chil'ren is come tranquille, de ole 

man begin comme ca. 



62 The Habitant 

L'enfant! l'enfant! it 's very strange t'ing! 

mak' me laugh too w'en I hear 
Dc young peep talk of de long, long tarn of 

seventy, eighty year! 
Dat 's only be jus' eighty New Year Day, an' 

quickly was pass it by 
It s beeg, beeg dream, an' you don't wake up, 

till affer you 're comin' die. 



Dat 's true sure enough, you see curi's t'ing, 

if you only leev leetle w'ile. 
So long you got monee go all de place, for 

mebbe t'ree t'ousan' mile, 
But monee 's not everyt'ing on dis woiT, I tole 

you dat, mes amis, 
An' man can be ole lak' two bonder year, an' 

not see it, La Chasse Gal'rie. 



I never forget de fine New Year night, nearly 

seexty year ago, 
W'en I 'm lef it our place for attend soiree, on 

ole Maxime Baribault, 
Nine mile away, I can see tin roof, on church 

of de St. Joseph, 
An' over de snow, de leaf dat die las' fall, was 

chasin' itse'f. 



Phil-o-rum Juneau 63 

Dere was some of de neighbor house I call, 

dat 's be de ole fashion style, 
An' very nice style too, mes amis, I hope she 

will las' long w'ile, 
I shak' it de han', I drink sante, an' kiss it de 

girl she 's face, 
So it 's come ten o'clock, w'en I pass on road, 

for visit Maxime hees place. 



But I 'm not go more mebbe t'ree arpent, w'en 

de sky is get black all roun', 
An' de win' she blow lak I never see, an' de 

beeg snowstorm come down. 
I male' it my min' she 's goin' be soon, de very 

bad night for true, 
Dat 's locky I got plaintee whiskey lef, so I 

tak' it wan leetle " coup." 



Purty quick affer dat, I 'm comin' nice place, 
was stan'in' some fine beeg tree 

Were de snow don't dreef, an' it seem jus' 
' lak dat place it is mak' for me, 

So I pass it on dere, for mak' safe mese'f, w'ile 
de storm is blow outside, 

As if all de devil on hell below, was tak' heem 
some fancy ride. 



64 The Habitant 

Wan red fox he 's comin' so close, so close, I 

could ketch him wit' de han', 
But not on de tarn lak dis ma frien', " Marche 

toi all de quick you can," 
Poor feller he 's tire an' seem los' hees way, 

an' w'en he reach home dat night 
Mebbe he fin' it all was close up, an' de door 

it was fassen tierht. 



But w'at is dat soun' mak' de hair stan' up, 

w'at is it mean, dat cry ? 
Comin' over de high tree top, out of de nor'- 

wes' sky 
Lak cry of de wil' goose w'en she pass on de 

spring tarn an' de fall, 
But wil' goose fly on de winter night! I never 

see dat at all. 



On, on t'roo de night, she is quickly come, 
more closer all de tarn. 

But not lak de cry of some wil' bird now, don't 
seem it at all de sam' ; 

An' den wit' de rush of de win', I hear some- 
body sing chanson 

An' de song dey sing is de ole, ole song, " Le 
Canayen Errant." 



Phil-o-rum Juneau 65 

But it 's mak' me lonesome an' scare also, jus' 

sam' I be goin' for die 
Wen I lissen dat song on night lak dis, so far 

away on de sky, 
Don't know w'at to do at all mese'f, so I go 

w'ere I have good view, 
An' up, up above t'roo de storm an' snow, 

she 's comin' wan beee canoe. 



Den somebody call it ma nam' out loud, firs' 

tarn it was scare me so, 
' We know right away, dat was you be dere, 

hello Phil-o-rum, hello! " 
An' soon I see him dat feller spik, I 'member 

him too mese'f, 
We go de sam' school twenty year before, hees 

nam's Telesphore Le Boeuf. 



But I know on de way canoe she go, dat de 

crowd he nnis' be dead man 
Was come from de Grande Riviere du Nord, 

come from Saskatchewan, 
Come too from all de place is lie on de Hodson 

Bay Con tree, 
An' de t'ing I was see me dat New Year night, 

is le phantome Chasse Gal'rie. 



66 The Habitant 

An' many de boy I was see him dere, I know 

him so long before 
He 's goin' away on de far contree — for never 

return no more — 
An' now on phantome he is comin' home — t'roo 

de storm an' de hurricane 
For kiss him de girl on jour de l'an, an' see de 

ole peep again. 



De beeg voyageur w'at is steer canoe, wit' 

paddle hoi' on hees han' 
Got very long hair was hang down hees neck, 

de sam' as wil' Injin man 
Invite me on boar' dat phantome canoe, for 

show it dead man de way — 
Don't lak it de job, but no use refuse, so I '11 

mak' it de embarquer. 



Den wan of de gang, he mus' be foreman, say 

it 's tarn for have leetle drink, 
So he pass heem black bottle for tak' un 

" coup," an' it 's look lak ma own I t'ink, 
But it can't be de sam', I '11 be swear for dat, 

for w'en I was mak' de go, 
I fin' dere is not'ing inside but win', an' de 

whiskey 's phantome also. 



Phil-o-rum Juneau 67 

Dey be laugh affcr dat, lak dey tak' some fit, 

so de boss spik him, " Tiens Phil-o-rum, 
Never min' on dem feller — mus' have leetle 

sport, dat \s very long way we come, 
Will you ketch it de paddle for steer us quick 

on place of Maxime Baribault ? " 
An' he 's ax me so nice, I do as he please', an 

den away off she go. 



Wan minute — two minute — we pass on dere, 

Maxime he is all hooraw ! 
An' we know by musique dat was play inside, 

mus' be de great Joe Violon, 
Dat feller work fiddle on very bes' way, dat 

nobody never see 
Mak' de boy an' de girl, ole peep also, dance 

lak dey was go crazee. 



You s'pose dey was let me come on dat house ? 

Not at all, for de boss he say, 
Phil-o-rum, it 's long tarn we don't see our 

fren', can't get heem chance. ev'ry day, 
Please stop on canoe so she won't blow off, 

w'ile we pass on de house an' see 
Dem frien' we was lef an' de girl we spark, 

before we go strange contree." 



68 The Habitant 

An' me I was sit on canoe outside, jus' lak I 

was sapre fou, 
Watchin' dem feller dat \s all dead man, dance 

heem lak Loup Garou. 
De boss he kiss Marie Louise, ma girl, dat 's 

way he spen' mos' de tarn, 
But of course she know not'ing of dat biz-nesse 

■ — don't lak it me jus' de snm'. 



By tarn I 'm commence it for feel de col', 

dey 're all comin' out encore, 
An' we start off again t'roo de sky, hooraw ! 

for mak' de visite some more, 
All de place on de parish we go dat night, 

w'erever dey get some dance, 
Till I feel it so tire, I could sleep right off, but 

dey don't geev it me no chance. 



De las' place w'ere passin' dat 's Bill Boucher, 

he 's very good frien' of me, 
An' I t'ink it 's near tarn I was lcf dat crowd, 

so I '11 snub de canoe on tree, 
Den affer dead man he was safe inside, an' 

ev'rywan start danser, 
I go on de barn wat 's behin' de house, for 

see I can't hide away. 



Phil-o-rum Juneau 69 

She 's nice place de barn, an' got plaintee 

warm, an' I 'm feel very glad be dere, 
So long dead feller don't fin' me out, an' ketch 

it me on de hair, 
But s'pose I get col', work him hard all night, 

'cos I make it wan leetle cough. 
Wen de rooster he 's scare, holler t'ree, four 

tarn, an' whole t'ing she bus' right off. 



I '11 never see not'ing so quick again-- Canoe 

an' dead man go scat! 
She 's locky de rooster he mak' de noise, bus' 

ev'ryt'ing up lak dat, 
Or mebbe dem feller get me encore, an' tak' 

me on Hodson Bay, 
But it 's all right now, for de morning's come, 

an' he see me ole Bill Boucher. 



I 'm feel it so tire, an' sore all de place, wit' all 

de hard work I do', 
'Cos I 'm not very use for mak' paddle, me, on 

beeg, beeg phantome canoe, 
But Bill an' hees boy dey was leef me up, an' 

carry me on maison 
Were plaintee nice t'ing dey was mak' me eat, 

an' drink it some whiskey blanc. 



70 The Habitant 

An' now w'en I 'm finish, w'at you t'ink it 

youse'f, 'bout story dat you was hear ? 
No wonner ma hair she is all turn w'ite before 

I get eighty year! 
But 'member dis t'ing, I be tole you firs, don't 

los' it mes chers amis, 
De man he can leev him on long, long tarn, 

an' not see it La Chasse Gal'rie! 



He sit on dc corner mos' every night, ole Phil- 

o-rum Juneau, 
Spik wit' hese'f, an' shak' de head, an' smoke 

on de pipe also, 
But kip very quiet, don't wak' him up, let him 

stay on de kitchen wall, 
For if you believe w'at de ole man say, you 

believe anyt'ing at all. 




GO 'way, go 'way, don't ring no more, ole 
bell of Saint Michel, 
For if you do, I can't stay here, you know dat 

very well, 
No matter how I close ma ear, I can't shut out 

de soun', 
It rise so high 'bove all de noise of dis beeg 
Yankee town. 



7i 



72 



The Habitant 




An' w'en it ring, I t'ink I feel de 
cool, cool summer breeze 

Dat 's blow across Lac Peezagonk, 
an' play among de trees, 

Dey're makin' hay, I know mese'f, 
can smell de pleasant smell 

O ! how I wish I could be dere to- 
day on Saint Michel ! 

It 's fonny t'ing, for me I 'm sure, 

dat 's travel ev'ryw'ere, 
How moche I t'ink of long ago 

w'en I be leevin' dere; 
I can't 'splain dat at all, at all, 

mebbe it 's naturel, 
But I can't help it w'en I hear de 

bell of Saint Michel. 

Dere 's plaintee t'ing I don't for- 
jtS get, but I remember bes' 

e£V De spot I fin' wan day on June de 
S.-H&T small san'piper's nes' 

^'^An' dat hole on de reever w'ere I 
r^S£"% • ketch de beeg, beeg trout 

-v Was very nearly pull me in before 
I pull heem out. 

An' leetle Elodie Leclaire, I won- 

ner if she still 
Leev jus' sam' place she use to 

leev on 'noder side de hill, 



De Bell of St. Michel 73 

But s'pose she marry Joe Barbeau,dat 's alway 

hangin' roun' 
Since I am lef ole Saint Michel for work on 

Yankee town. 

Ah! dere she go, ding dong, ding dong, its 

back, encore again 
An' ole chanson come on ma head of "a la 

claire fontaine," 
I 'm not surprise it soun' so sweet, more sweeter 

I can tell 
For wit' de song also I hear de bell of Saint 

Michel. 

It 's very strange about dat bell, go ding dong 

all de w'ile 
For when I 'm small garcon at school, can't 

hear it half a mile ; 
But seems more farder I get off from Church 

of Saint Michel, 
De more I see de ole village an' louder soun' 

de bell. 

O! all de monee dat I mak' w'en I be travel roun' 
Can't kip me long away from home on dis beeg 

Yankee town, 
I t'ink I '11 settle down again on Parish Saint 

Michel, 
An' leev an' die more satisfy so long I hear dat 

bell. 




n^r*>- 



»|fpf«f: 



x- 



PELANG! Pelang! Mon cher gar^on, 
I t'ink of you — t'ink of you night and 
day — 
Don't mak' no difference, seems to me 
De long long tarn you 're gone away. 

De snow is deep on de Grande Montague — 
Lak tonder de rapide roar below — 

De sam' kin' night, ma boy get los' 
On beeg, beeg storm forty year ago. 

An' I never was hear de win' blow hard, 

An' de snow come sweesh on de window 
pane — 



74 



Pelang 75 

But ev'ryt'ing 'pear lak' it 's yesterday 

An' whole of ma troub' is come back again. 

Ah me ! I was foolish young girl den 

It 's only ma own plaisir I care, 
An' w'en some dance or soiree come off 

Dat 's very sure t'ing you will see me dere. 

Don't got too moche sense at all dat tarn, 
Run ev'ry place on de whole contree — 

But I change beeg lot w'en Pelang come long, 
For I love him so well, kin' o' steady me. 

An' he was de bes' boy on Coteau, 

An' t'ink I am de bes' girl too for sure — 

He 's tole me dat, geev de ring also 

Was say on de inside " Je t'aime toujours. " 

I geev heem some h.iir dat come off ma head, 
I mak' de nice stocking for warm hees feet, 

So ev'ryt'ing 's feex, w'en de spring is come 
For mak' mariee on de church toute suite. 

W'en de spring is come! " Ah I don't see 

dat, 
Dough de year is pass as dey pass before, 
An' de season come, an' de season go, 
But our spring never was come no more. 



76 The Habitant 

It 's on de fete of de jour de l'an, 

An' de woiT outside is cole an' vv'ite, 

As I sit an' watch for mon cher Pelang- 

For he 's promise come see me dis very night. 

Bonhomme Peloquin dat is leev near us — 
He 's alway keep look heem upon de moon — 

See fonny t'ing dere only week before, 

An' say he 's expec' some beeg storm soon. 

So ma fader is mak' it de laugh on me' 

Pelang he 's believe heem de ole Bon- 
homme 
Dat t'ink he see ev'ryt'ing on de moon 

An' mebbe he 's feel it too scare for come." 

But I don't spik not'ing I am so sure 
Of de promise Pelang is mak' wit' me — 

An' de mos' beeg storm dat is never blow 
Can't kip heem away from hees own Marie. 

I open de door, an' pass outside 

For see mese'f how de night is look 

An' de star is commence for go couche" 
De mountain also is put on hees tuque. 

No sooner, I come on de house again 

Were ev'ryt'ing feel it so nice an' warm, 

Dan out of de sky come de Nor' Eas' win' — 
Out of de sky come de beeg snow storm. 



Pelang 77 

Blow lak not'ing I never see, 

Blow lak le diable he was mak' grande tour; 
De snow come down lak wan avalanche, 

An' cole! Mon Dieu, it is cole for sure!! 

I t'ink, I ti'nk of mon pauvre garcon, 

Dat 's out mebbe on de Grande Montagne; 

So I place chandelle we're it 's geev good light, 
An' pray Le Bon Dieu he will help Pelang. 

De ole folk t'ink I am go crazee, 

An' moder she 's geev me de good night kiss ; 
She say " Go off on your bed, Marie, 

Dere 's nobody come on de storm lak dis. " 

But ma eye don't close dat long long, night 
For it seem jus' lak phantome is near, 

An' I ti'nk of de terrible Loup Garou 
An' all de bad story I offen hear. 

Dere was tarn I am sure somet'ingcall " Marie " 
So plainly I open de outside door, 

But it 's meet me only de awful storm, 

An de cry pass away — don't come no more. 

An' de morning sun, w'en he 's up at las', 
Fin' me w'ite as de face of de snow itse'f, 

For I know very well, on de Grande Montagne, 
Ma poor Pelang he 's come dead hese'f. 



7$ The Habitant 

It 's noon by de clock w'en de storm blow off, 
An' ma fader an' broder start out for see 

Any track on de snow by de Mountain side, 
Or down on de place w'ere chemin should be. 

No sign at all on de Grande Montagne, 
No sign all over de w'ite, w'ite snow; 

Only hear de win' on de beeg pine tree, 
An' roar of de rapide down below. 

An' w'ere is he lie, mon cher Pelang! 

Pelang ma boy I was love so well ? 
Only Le Bon Dieu up above 

An' mebbe de leetle snow bird can tell. 

An I t'ink I hear de leetle bird say, 

Wait till de snow is geev up it's dead, 
Wait till I go, an' de robin come, 

An' den you will fin' hees cole, cole bed." 

An' it 's all come true, for w'en de sun 
Is warm de side of de Grande Montagne 

An' drive away all de winter snow, 

We fin' heem at las', mon cher Pelang! 

An' here on de fete of de jour de Pan, 

Alone by mese'f I sit again, 
W'ile de beeg, beeg storm is blow outside, 

An' de snow come sweesh on de window 
pane. 



Pelang 79 

Not all alone, for I t'ink I hear 

De voice of ma boy gone long ago ; 

Can hear it above de hurricane, 
An' roar of de rapide down below. 

Yes — yes — Pelang, mon cher garc,on ! 

I t'ink of you, t'ink of you night an' day, 
Don't mak' no difference seems to me 

How long de tarn you was gone away. 



MON cno 

o o 



CASTOR 




I'M poor man, me, but I buy las' May 
Wan horse on cle Comp'nie Passengaire, 
An' auction feller w'at sole heem say 

She 's out of de full-breed " Messengaire." 

Good trotter stock, also galluppe, 
But work long tarn on de city car, 

Of course she 's purty well break heem up, 
So come leetle cheap — twenty-wan dollarre. 

So 



Mon Choual "Castor" 81 

Firs' chance I sen' heem on St. Cesaire, 

Were I t'ink he 's have moche better sight, 

Mebbe de grass an' de contree air 

Very soon was feex heem up all right. 

I lef heem dere till de fall come 'long, 

An' dat trotter he can't eat grass no more, 

An' w'en I go dere, I fin' heem strong 
Lak not'ing I never see before. 

I heetch heem up on de light sulkee, 
L'enfant! dat horse he is cover groun'! 

Don't tak' long tarn for de crowd to see 
Mon choual he was leek all trotter roun'. 

Come down de race course lak' oiseau 
Tail over datch boar', nice you please, 

Can't tell for sure de quick he go, 

S'pose somew'ere 'bout two, t'ree forties. 

I treat ma frien' on de whiskey blanc, 

An' we drink " Castor " he 's bonne sante 

From L'Achigan to St. Armand, 

He 's bes' horse sure on de whole comte\ 

'Bout week on front of dis, Lalime, 

Dat man drive horse call " Clevelan' Bay " 

Was challenge, so I match wit' heem 
For wan mile heat on straight away. 



82 The Habitant 

Dat 's twenty dollarre on wan side, 
De lawyer 's draw de paper out, 

But if dem trotter come in tied, 

Wall! all dat mo nee 's go on spout. 

Nex' t'ing ma backer man, Labrie, 

Tak' off his catch-book vingt cinq cents, 

An' toss Lalime bes' two on t'ree 
For see who 's go on inside fence. 

Bateese Lalime, he \s purty smart, 
An' gain dat toss wit' jockey trick. 

I don't care me, w'en " Castor " start, 
Very soon I t'ink he \s mak' heem sick. 

Beeg crowd of course was dere for see 
Dem trotter on de grand match race 

Some people come from St. Remi 
An' some from plaintee 'noder place. 

W'en all is ready, flag was fall 

An' way dem trotter pass on fence 

Lak not'ing you never see at all, 

It mak' me t'ink of " St. Lawrence." * 

Castor," hees tail was stan' so straight 
Could place chapeau on de en' of top 
An' w'en he struck two forty gait 
Don't seem he's never go for stop. 

* "St. Lawrence," the Canadian " Dexter. 



Mon Choual "Castor" 8 

Wall! dat \s all right for firs' half mile 
Wen Clevelan' Bay commence for break, 

Dat mak' me feel very moche lak smile, 
I 'm sure " Castor " he 's took de cake. 

Hut Lalime pull heem hard on line 
An' stop " Clevelan' " before go far, 

It 's all no good, he can't ketch mine 
I 'm go more quicker lak express car. 

I 'm feel all right for my monee, 

For sure mon Choual he 's took firs' place, 
W 'en 'bout arpent from home, sapre, 

Somet'ing she 's happen, I 'm los' de race. 

Wan bad boy he 's come out on track, 
I cannot see dat bad boy's han' ; 

He 's hoi' somet'ing behin' hees back, 
It was small bell, I understan'. 

Can spik for dat, ma horse go well, 
An' never show no sign of sweat, 

Until dat boy he 's ring hees bell — 
Misere! I t'ink I hear heem yet! 

Wall! jus' so soon mon Choual " Castor " 
Was hear dat bell go kling! klang! kling! 

He 's tink of course of city car, 
An' spose mus' be conductor ring. 



84 The Habitant 

Firs' t'ing I know ma trotter 's drop 
Dat tail was stan' so straight before, 

An' after dat, mebbe he stop 

For me, I don't know not'ing more. 

But w'en I 'm come alive again 

I fin' dat horse call " Clevelan' Bay 

Was got firs' place, an' so he 's gain 
Dat wan mile heat on straight away. 

An' now w'erever I am go 

Bad boy he 's sure for holler an' yell 
Dis done ! Dis done ! Paul Archambault ! 

Wat 's matter wit' your chestnutte bell ? 

Mak' plaintee troub' dem bad garcons, 

An' often ring some bell also, 
Was mad! Could plonge on de St. Laurent 

An' w'at to do, " Castor " don't know. 

Las' tarn I pass de railway track 
For drive avec mon frere Alfred, 

In-jinne she 's ring, " Castor " he 's back, 
Monjee! it 's fonny I 'm not come dead! 

Toujours comme ca ! an' mak' me sick, 
But horse dat work long on les chars 

Can't broke dem off on fancy trick 
So now I 'm busy for sole " Castor." 






.,-, 



Ile tam 

ON 




ILAK on summer ev'nifig, w'en nice cool 
win' is bio win' 
An' up above ma head, I hear de pigeon on 
de roof, 
To bring ma chair an' sit dere, an' watch de 
current flowin' 
Of ole Riviere des Prairies as she pass de 
Bord-a Plouffe. 

S5 



cS6 The Habitant 

But it seem dead place for sure now, on shore 
down by de lan'in' — 
No more de voyageurs is sing lak dey was 
sing alway— 
De tree dey 're commence growin' w'ere 
shaintee once is stan'in', 
An' no one scare de swallow w'en she fly 
across de bay. 



I don't lak see de reever she 's never doin' 
not'in' 
But passin' empty ev'ry day on Bout de l'ile 
below — 
Ma ole shaloup dat 's lyin' wit' all its timber 
rottin' 
An' tarn so change on Bord-a Plouffe since 
forty year ago ! 



De ice dat freeze on winter, might jus' as well 
be stay dere, 
For w'en de spring she 's comin' de only 
t'ing I see 
Is two, t'ree piqnique feller, hees girl was row 
away dere, 
Don't got no use for water now, on Riviere 
des Prairies. 



Ole Tarn 87 

'T was cliff' rent on dem summer you could n't 
see de reever, 
Wit' saw-log an' squar' timber raf , mos' all 
de season t'roo — 
Two honder man an' more too — all busy lak 
de beaver, 
An' me! I 'm wan de pilot for ronne 'em 
down de " Soo." 



Don't 'member lak I use to, for now I 'm get- 
tin' ole, me — 
But still I can't forget Bill Wade, an' Guil- 
laume Lagasse, 
Joe Monferrand, Bazile Montour— wit' plaintee 
I can't tole, me, 
An' king of all de Bord-a Plouffe, M'sieu' 
Venance Lemay. 



Lak small boy on hees lesson, I learn de way 
to han'le 
Mos' beeges' raf is never float upon de Ot- 
tawaw, 
Ma fader show me dat too, for well he know 
de channel, 
From Dutchman Rapide up above to Bout 
de l'ile en bas. 



88 The Habitant 

He 's smart man too, ma fader, only t'ing he 
got de bow-leg, 
Ridin' log w'en leetle feller, mebbe dat 's 
de reason w'y, 
All de sam', if he 's in hurry, den Bagosh ! he 
's got heem no leg 
But wing an' fedder lak oiseau, was fly upon 
de sky ! 



O dat was tarn we 're happy, an' man dey 're 
ahvay singin', 
For if it 's hard work on de raf, w'y dere 's 
your monee sure! 
An' ev'ry summer evenin', ole Bord-a Plouffe 
she 's ringin' 
Wit' ' En Roulant ma Boule " an' "J' 
aimerai toujour." 



Dere dey 're comin' on de wagon! fine young 
feller ev'ry wan too, 
Dress im up de ole tarn fashion, dat I lak for 
see encore, 
Yellin' hooraw ! t'roo de village, all de horse 
upon de ronne too, 
Ah poor Bord-a Plouffe ! she never have dem 
tarn asjain no more! 



Ole Tarn 89 

Very offen w'en I 'm sleepin', I was feel as if 
I 'm goin' 
Down de ole Riviere des Prairies on de raf 
de sam as den — 
An' ma dream is only lef me, w'en de rooster 
commence crowin' 
But it can't do me no harm, 'cos it mak me 
young again. 



An' upon de morning early, wen de reever fog 
is clearin' 
An' sun is makin' up hees min' for drive 
away de dew, 
W'en young bird want hees breakfas', I wak* 
an' t'ink I 'm hearin' 
Somebody shout " Hooraw, Bateese, de raf 
she 's wait for you." 



Dat 's voice of Guillaume Lagasse was call me 
on de morning 
Jus' outside on de winder w'ere you look 
across de bay, 
But he 's drown upon de Longue " Soo," wit' 
never word of warning 
An' green grass cover over poor Guillaume 
Lagasse. 



90 The Habitant 

I s'pose dat 's meanin' something — mebbc I 'm 
not long for stay here, 
Seein' all dem strange t'ing happen — dead 
frien' comin' roun' me so — 
But I 'm sure I die more happy, if I got jus' 
wan more day here, 
Lak we have upon de ole tarn Bord-a Plouffe 
of \on<i asjo ! 




TO the hut of the peasant , or lordly hall, 
To the heart of the king, or humblest 
thrall, 
Sooner or late, love comes to all, 
And it came to the Grand Seigneur, my dear, 
It came to the Grand Seigneur. 



The robins were singing a roundelay, 
And the air was sweet with the breath of May, 
As a horseman rode thro' the forest way, 
And he was a Grand Seigneur, my dear, 
He was a grand Seigneur. 



Lord of the Manor, Count Bellefontaine, 
Had spurr'd over many a stormy plain 
With gallants of France at his bridle rein, 
For he was a brave Cavalier, my dear — 
He was a brave Cavalier. 



91 



92 The Habitant 

But the huntsman's daughter, La Belle Marie, 
Held the Knight's proud heart in captivity, 
And oh ! she was fair as the fleur de lys, 
Tho' only a peasant maid, my dear, 
Only a peasant maid. 



Thro' the woodland depths on his charger grey 
To the huntsman's cottage he rides away, 
And the maiden lists to a tale to-day 
That haughtiest dame might hear, my dear, 
That haughtiest dame might hear. 



But she cried " Alas! it may never be, 
For my heart is pledged to the young Louis, 
And I love him, O Sire, so tenderly, 
Tho' he 's only a poor Chasseur, my Lord, 
Only a poor Chasseur." 



Enough," spake the Knight with a courtly 

bow, 
Be true to thy lover and maiden vow, 
For virtue like thine is but rare, I trow, 
And farewell to my dream of love, and thee, 
Farewell to my dream of thee." 



The Grand Seigneur 93 

And they say the gallant Count Bellefontaine 
Bestowed on the couple a rich domain, 
But you never may hear such tale again, 
For he was a Grand Seigneur, my dear, 
He was a Grand Seigneur! 




rfSIEU SMIf 



» 



vcv 



' 



THE ADVENTURES 
OF AN ENGLISH- 
MAN IN THE CAN- 
ADIAN WOODS 

WAN morning 
de walkim 
boss say" Damase, 
I t'ink you 're 
good man on 
canoe d'ecorce, 
So I '11 ax you go 
wit' your frien' 
Phileas 
An' meet M'sieu' 3 
Smit' on Chen- 
ailW'ite Horse. 






' *fl 










He '11 have I am sure de grosse baggage — 
Mebbe some valise — mebbe six or t'ree — 
But if she 's too moche for de longue portage 
'Poleon he will tak' 'em wit' mail buggee." 



94 



M'sieu Smit 95 

Wen we reach Chenail, plaintee peep be dere, 
An' wan frien' of me, call Placide Chretien, 

'Splain all dat w'en he say man from Angleterre 
Was spik heem de crowd on de " Parisien." 

Fonny way dat Englishman he '11 be dress, 
Leetle pant my dear frien' jus' come on knee, 

Wit' coat dat 's no coat at all — only ves' 
An' hat — de more stranger 1 never see! 

Wall! dere he sit on de en' some log 
An' swear heem in English purty loud 

Den talk Francais, w'ile hees chien boule dog 
Go smellim an' smellim aroun' de crowd. 

I spik im " Bonjour, M'sieu' Smit', Bonjour, 
I hope dat yourse'f and famille she 's well ? " 

M'sieu Smit' he is also say " Bonjour," 

An' call off hees dog dat 's commence for 
smell. 

I tell heem my name dat 's Damase Labrie 
I am come wit' Phileas for mak' de trip, 

An' he say I 'm de firs' man he never see 
Spik English encore since he lef de ship. 

He is also ax it to me " Damase, 

De peep she don't seem understan' Francais, 
W'at 's matter wit' dat ? " An' I say" Becos 

You mak' too much talk on de Parisien." 



96 The Habitant 

De groun she is pile wit' baggage — Sapre! 

An' I see purty quick we got plaintee troub — 
Two tronk, t'ree valise, four-five fusil, 

An' w'at M'sieu Smit' he is call "bat' tubbe. " 

M'sieu Smit' he 's tole me w'at for 's dat t'ing, 
An' it seem Englishman he don't feel correc' 

Until he 's go plonge on some bat' morning 
An' sponge it hees possibill high hees neck 

Of course dat' s not'ing of my beez-nesse, 
He can plonge on de water mos' ev'ry day, 

But I t'ink for mese'f it mak foolishness 

An' don't do no good w'en your bonne sante. 

Wen I tell 'Poleon he mus' mak' dat job, 
Dere 's leetle too moche for canoe d'ecorce, 

He 's mad right away an' say " Sapre diablc! 
You t'ink I no work lak wan niggerhorse ? 



'tots' 



'I'm not manufacture dat way, ba non, 
Dat rich stranger man he have lot monee, 

I go see my frien' Onesime Gourdon, 

An' tole heem bring horse wit' some more 
bugeee." 



•fc>fc> 



Wall! affer some w'ile dey '11 arrange all dat, 
'Poleon an' hees frien' Onesime Gourdon, 

But w'en 'Poleon is tak' hole of bat', 
He receive it beeg scare immediatement ! 



M'sieu Smit 97 

Dat chien boule dog, I was tole you 'bout, 
I am not understan' vv'at good she 's for, 

Eat 'Poleon's leg w'it hees teet' an' mout, 
'Poleon he is feel very mad — by Gor! 

Of course I am poule heem hees tail toute 
suite 
But I don't know some reason mak all dis 
troub', 
Wen I hear me dat Englishman, M'sieu Smit' 
Say 'Poleon, w'at for you took my tubbe ? 

Leff 'im dere — for I don't low nobodee 
Walk heem off on any such way lak dat ; 
You may tak' all de res', an' I don't care me — 
But de man he '11 be keel who is tak' my 
bat'." 



" I will carry heem wit' me," sayM'sieu Smit' — 

W'erever dat tubbe she mus' ^o, I £fo — 
No matter de many place we visite, 

An' my sponge I will tak' mese'f also." 

Phileas say " Damase, we mus buil' some raf 
Or mebbe some feller be sure get drown " ; 

Dis geev me plaisir, but I 'm scare mak' laf, 
So I '11 do it mese'f, inside, way down. 



98 The Habitant 

At las' we are start on voyage, sure nuff, 

M'sieu Smit' carry tubbe on de top hees 
head, 

Good job, I t'ink so, de lac is n't rough, 
Or probably dis tarn, we 're all come dead. 

De dog go wit' Onesime Gourdon, 
Au' Onesime afferwar' say to me, 
Dat chien boule dog is cat 'Poleon 
Was de more quiet dog I never see." 

But fun she 's commence on very nex' day 
Wen we go camp out on de Castor Noir. 
Dat Englishman he '11 come along an' say 
I hope some wil' Injun she don't be dere. 

" I have hear many tarn, dat de wood be foule 
Of Injun w'at tak' off de hair your head. 

But so surely my name she 's Johnnie Boule 
If I see me dem feller I shoot it dead." 

Phileas den pray harder, more quick he can 
Mebbe he 's t'ink dat 's hees las' portage 

De moder hees fader, she 's Injun man 
Derefore an' also, he is wan Sauvage. 

I say " Don't mak' it some excitement; 

Saison she is ' close ' on de spring an' fall, 
An' dem peep dat work on de Gouvernement 

Don't lak you shoot Injun dis mont' at all." 



M'sieu Smit 99 

Nex' day M'sieu Smit' is perform hees plonge 
We see heem go done it — Phileas an' me, 

An' w'en he 's hang up bat' tubbe an' sponge 
We go on de wood for mak' Chasse perdrix. 

An' mebbe you will not believe to me, 

But w'en we come back on de camp encore 

De sponge of dat Englishman don't be see, 
An' we fin' beeg bear she 's go dead on shore. 

Very fonny t'ing how he 's loss hees life, 
But Phileas he '11 know hese'f purty quick, 

He cut M'sieu Bear wit' hees hunter knife, 
An' sponge she 's fall out on de bear stum- 
mi ck. 

Day affer we get two fox houn' from Boss 
Dat 's good for ketch deer on de fall an' 
spring, 

Den place Englishman w'ere he can't get los' 
An' tole heem shoot quicker he see somet'ing. 

Wat 's dat leetle deer got no horn at all ? 

She '11 be moder small wan en suite bimeby, 
Don't remember mese'f w'at name she 's call, 

But dat 's de kin' start w'en de dog is cry. 

We see heem come down on de runaway 
De dog she is not very far behin' 



ioo The Habitant 

An' w'en dey pass place M'sieu Smit' is stay 
We expec' he will shoot or make noise some 
kin'! 

But he 's not shoot at all, mon cher ami, 

So we go an' we ax" Is he see some deer ? " 

He say " Dat 's long tarn I am stay on tree 
But I don't see not'ing she 's pass on here." 

We spik heem once more, " He don't see fox 
houn' ? " 
W'at you t'ink he is say, dat Englishman ? 
" Yes, I see dem pass quickly upon de groun', 
Wan beeg yellow dog, an' two small brown 
wan." 

He 's feel de more bad I don't see before 
W'en he know dat beeg dog, she 's wan small 
deer, 

An' for mak' ev'ryt'ing correc' encore 

We drink I am sure six bouteilles de biere. 

Nex' day — dat 's Dimanche — he is spik to me, 
' Damase, you mus' feel leetle fatigue, 

You may slep' wit' Phileas w'ile I go an' see 
I can't get some nice quiet tarn to-day." 

So for keep 'way skeeter, an' fly also 

Bouteille from de shelf M'sieu Smit' he tak', 



M'sieu Smit 101 

Den he start wit' his chien boule dog an' go 
For nice quiet walk on shore of lac. 

We don't slop' half hour w'en dere 's beeg, 
beeg yell, 
Lak somet'ing I 'm sure don't hear long tarn, 
An' we see wan feller we cannot tell, 

Till he spik it, " Damase! Phileas!! dam 
clam!!! 

Den we know it at once mon, cher ami, 

But she 's swell up hees face — hees neck an' 
ban' ! 

It seem all de skeeter on w'ole contree 
Is jump on de head of dat Englishman. 

Some water on poor M'sieu Smit' we '11 t'row, 
An' w'en he 's tranquille fin' out ev'ry- 
t'ing; 

Bouteille he 's rub on, got some nice sirop 
I was mak' mese'f on de wood las' spring. 

Dere was jus' 'noder t'ing he seem for care 
An' den he is feel it more satisfy, 

Dat t'ing, my dear frien', was for keel some 
bear, 
If he '11 do dat wan tarn, he 's prepare for die. 



io2 The Habitant 

Phileas say he know w'ere some blue berree 
Mak' very good place for de bear have forme, 

So we start nex' day on morning earlee, 

An' M'sieu Smit' go wit' hees elephan' gun. 

Wan woman sauvage she is come be dere, 
Mebbe want some blue berree mak' some pie, 

Dat' Englishman shoot, he is t'ink she 's bear, 
An' de woman she 's holler, " Mon Dieu, 
I 'm die ! " 

M'sieu Smit' he don't do no harm, becos 
He is shake hese'f w'en he shoot dat squaw, 

But scare he pay hunder' dollar cos' 

For keel some sauvage on de " close " saison. 

T'ree day affer dat, we start out on lac 
For ketch on de water wan Cariboo, 

But win' she blow strong, an' we can't get back 
Till we t'row ourse'f out on dat canoe. 

We t'ink M'sieu Smit' he is sure be drown, 
Leetle w'ile we can't see heem again no more, 

An' den he 's come up from de place go down 
An' jomp on hees bat' tubbe an' try go shore. 

W'en he 's pass on de bat', he say " Hooraw! " 
An' commence right away for mak' some sing; 



M'sieu Smit 103 

I' m sure you can hear heem ten-twelve arpent 
'Bout " Brittanie, she alway mus' boss some- 
t'ing." 

Dat 's all I will tole you jus' now, my frien'; 

I s'pose you don't know de more fonny case. 
But if Englishman go on wood again 

I '11 have more storee w'en you pass my 
place. 



WHEN ALBANI SANG 

WAS workin' away on de farm dere, wan 
morning not long ago, 
Feexin' de fence for winter — 'cos clat 's w 'ere 

we got de snow ! 
Wen Jeremie Plouffe, ma neighbor, come over 
an' spik wit' me, 
Antoine, yon will come on de city, for hear 
Ma-dam All-ba-nee ? " 

Wat you mean ? " I was sayin' right off, me, 
Some woman was mak' de speech, 
Or girl on de Hooraw Circus, doin' high kick 
an' screech ? " 
Non — non," he is spikin' — " Excuse me, 
dat 's be Ma-dam All-ba-nee 
Was leevin' down here on de contree, two mile 
'noder side Chambly. 

" She 's jus' comin' over from Englan', on 

steamboat arrive Kebeck, 
Singin' on Lunnon an' Paree, an' havin' beeg 

tam, I expec', 



104 



When Albani Sang 105 

But no matter de moche she enjoy it, for travel 

all roun'de worl', 
Somet'ing on de heart bring her back here, for 

she was de Chambly girl. 



" She never do not'ing but singin' an' makin' 

de beeg grande tour 
An' travel on summer an' winter, so mus' be 

de firs' class for sure! 
Ev'ryboddy I 'm t'inkin' was know her, an' I 

also hear 'noder t'ing, 
She \s frien' on La Reine Victoria an' show her 

de way to sing! " 

" Wall," I say, " you 're sure she is Chambly, 
w'at you call Ma-dam All-ba-nee ? 

Don't know me dat nam' on de Canton — I 
hope you 're not fool wit' me ? " 

An he say, " Lajeunesse, dey was call her, be- 
fore she is come mariee, 

But she 's takin' de nam' of her husban' — I 
s'pose dat 's de only way." 

C'est bon, mon ami," I was say me, If I 
get t'roo de fence nex' day 
An' she don't want too moche on de monee, 
den mebbe I see her play." 



106 The Habitant 

So I finish dat job on to-morrow, Jeremie he 

was helpin' me too, 
An' I say, " Len' me t'ree dollar quickly for 

mak' de voyage wit' you." 



Correc' — so we 're startin' nex' morning, an' 

arrive Montreal all right, 
Buy dollar tiquette on de bureau, an' pass on 

de hall dat night. 
Beeg crowd, wall! I bet you was dere too, all 

dress on some fancy dress, 
De lady, I don't say not'ing, but man 's all 

w'ite shirt an' no ves'. 



Don't matter, w'en ban' dey be ready, de fore- 
man strek out wit' hees steek, 

An' fiddle an' ev'ryt'ing else too, begin for 
play up de musique. 

It 's fonny t'ing too dey was playin' don't lak 
it mese'f at all, 

I rader be lissen some jeeg, me, or w'at you 
call " Affer de ball." 



An' I 'm not feelin' very surprise den, w'en de 

crowd holler out, " Encore," 
For mak' all dem feller commencin' an' try 

leetle piece some more, 



When Albani Sang 107 

'T was better wan' too, I be t'inkin', but slow 

lak you 're goin' to die, 
All de sam', noboddy say not'ing, dat mean 

dey was satisfy. 

Affer dat come de Grande piano, lak we got on 

Chambly Hotel, 
She 's nice lookin' girl was play dat, so of 

course she 's go off purty well, 
Den feller he 's ronne out an* sing some, it 's 

all about very fine moon, 
Dat shine on Canal, ev'ry night too, I 'm sorry 

I don't know de tune. 



Nex' t'ing I commence get excite, me, for I 

don't see no great Ma-dam yet, 
Too bad I was los all dat monee, an' too late 

for de raffle tiquette! 
Wen jus' as I feel very sorry, for come all de 

way from Chambly, 
Jeremie he was w'isper, " Tiens, Tiens, prenez 

garde, she 's comin' Ma-dam All-ba-nee ! " 

Ev'ryboddy seem glad w'en dey see her, come 
walkin' right down de platform, 

An' way dey mak' noise on de nan' den, w'y! 
it 's jus' lak de beeg tonder storm ! 



io8 The Habitant 

I '11 never see not'ing lak dat, me, no matter 

I travel de worl', 
An' Ma-dam, you t'ink it was scare her ? Non, 

she laugh lak de Chambly girl ! 



Dere was young feller comin' behin' her, walk 

nice, comme un Cavalier, 
An' before All-ba-nee she is ready an' piano 

get startin' for play, 
De feller commence wit' hees singin', more 

stronger dan all de res', 
I t'ink he 's got very bad manner, know not'ing 

at all politesse. 

Ma-dam, I s'pose she get mad den, an' before 

anyboddy can spik, 
She settle right down for mak' sing too, an' 

purty soon ketch heem up quick, 
Den she 's kip it on gainin' an' gainin', till de 

song it is tout finis, 
An' w'en she is beatin' dat feller, Bagosh ! I am 

proud Chambly! 

I 'm not very sorry at all, me, w'en de feller 

was ronnin' away, 
An' man he 's come out wit' de piccolo, an' 

start heem right off for play, 



When Albani Sang 109 

For it 's kin' de musique I be fancy, Jeremie 

he is lak it also, 
An' wan de bes' t'ing on dat ev'ning is man 

wit' de piccolo! 



Den mebbe ten minute is passin', Ma-dam she 

is comin' encore, 
Dis tain all alone on de platform, dat feller 

don't show up no more, 
An' w'en she start off on de singin' Jeremie 

say, " Antoine, dat 's Francais,' 
Dis give us more pleasure, I tole you, 'cos 

w'y ? We 're de pure Canayen ! 

Dat song I will never forget me, 't was song of 

de leetle bird, 
W'en he 's fly from it 's nes' on de tree top, 

'fore res' of de worl' get stirred, 
Ma-dam she was tole us about it, den start off 

so quiet an' low, 
An' sing lak de bird on de morning, de poor 

leetle small oiseau. 



I 'member wan tarn I be sleepin' jus' onder 

some beeg pine tree 
An song of de robin wak' me, but robin he 

don't see me, 



i to The Habitant 

Dere 's not'ing for scarin' dat bird dere, he 's 

feel all alone on de worl', 
Wall ! Ma-dam she mus' lissen lak dat too, w'en 

she was de Chambly girl! 



Cos how could she sing dat nice chanson, de 
sam' as de bird I was hear, 

Till I see it de maple an' pine tree an' Riche- 
lieu ronnin' near, 

Again I 'm de leetle feller, lak young colt upon 
de spring 

Dat 's jus' on de way I was feel, me, w'en Ma- 
dam All-ba-nee is sing! 



An' affer de song it is finish, an' crowd is mak' 

noise wit' its han', 
I s'pose dey be t'inkin' I 'm crazy, dat mebbe 

I don't onderstan', 
Cos I 'm set on de chair very quiet, mese'f an' 

poor Jeremie, 
An' I see dat hees eye it was cry too, jus' sam' 

way it go wit' me. 

Dere 's rosebush outside on our garden, ev'ry 

spring it has got new lies', 
But only wan bluebird is buil' dere, I know her 

from all de res', 



When Albani Sang 1 1 1 

An' no matter tie far she be flyin' away on de 

winter tarn, 
Back to her own leetle rosebush she 's comin 

dere jus' de sam\ 



We 're not de beeg place on our Canton, mebbe 

cole on de winter, too, 
But de heart 's " Canayen " on our body, an' 

dat 's warm enough for true! 
An' w'en All-ba-nee was got lonesome for 

travel all roun' de worl' 
I hope she '11 come home, lak de bluebird, an' 

again be de Chamblv girl! 



DE CAMP ON DE " CHEVAL GRIS " 

YOU 'member de ole log-camp, Johnnie, up 
on de Cheval Oris, 
Were we work so hard all winter, long ago 

you an' me ? 
Dere was fourteen man on de gang, den, all 

from our own paroisse, 
An' only wan lef" dem feller is ourse'f an' 
Pierre Laframboise. 

But Pierre can't see on de eye, Johnnie, I t'ink 

it 's no good at all! 
An' it was n't for not'ing, you 're gettin' rheu- 

mateez on de leg las' fall ! 
I t'ink it 's no use waitin', for neider can come 

wit' me, 
So alone I mak' leetle visit dat camp on de 

Cheval Gris. 



An' if only you see it, Johnnie, an' change dere 

was all aroun', 
Ev'ryt'ing gone but de timber an' dat is all 

fallin' down ; 



Camp on de "Cheval Gris" 113 

No sign of portage by de reever w'ere man dey 

was place canoe, 
W'y, Johnnie, I 'm cry lak de bebe, an' I 'm 

glad you don't come, mon vieux! 



But strange t'ing's happen me dere, Johnnie, 

mebbe I go asleep, 
As I lissen de song of de rapide, as pas' de 

Longue Soo she sweep, 
Ma head she go biz-z-z lak de sawmeel, I don't 

know w'at 's wrong wit' me, 
But firs' t'ing I don't know not'ing, an' den 

w'at you t'ink I see ? 

Yourse'f an' res' of de boy, Johnnie, by light 

of de coal oil lamp, 
An' you 're singin' an' tolin' story, sittin' 

aroun' de camp, 
We hear de win' on de chimley, an' we know 

it was beeg, beeg storm, 
But ole box stove she is roarin', an' camp 's 

feelin' nice an' warm. 



I t'ink you 're on boar' of de raf, Johnnie, 

near head of Riviere du Loup, 
Wen LeRoy an' young Patsy Kelly get drown 

comin' down de Soo, 



ii4 The Habitant 

Wall! I see me dem very same feller, jus' lak 

you see me to-day, 
Playin' dat game dey call checker, de game dey 

was play- alway ! 

An' Louis Charette asleep, Johnnie, wit' hees 

back up agen du wall, 
Makin' soche noise wit' hees nose, dat you 

t'ink it was moose on de fall, 
I s'pose he 's de mos' fattes' man dere 'cept 

mebbe Bateese La Rue, 
But if I mak fonne on poor Louis, I know he 

was good boy too ! 



Wat you do over dere on your bunk, Johnnie, 

lightin' dem allumettes, 
Are you shame 'cos de girl she write you, is 

dat de las' wan you get ? 
It 's fonny you can't do widout it ev'ry tarn 

you was goin' bed, 
W'y readin" dat letter so off en, you mus have 

it all on de head ! 



Dat 's de very sam' letter, Johnnie, was comin' 

t'ree mont' ago, 
I t'ink I know somet'ing about it, 'cos I fin' it 

wan day on de snow, 



Camp on de "Cheval Gris" 115 

An' I see on cle foot dat letter, Philomene she 

is do lak dis: % % % 
I 'm not very moche on de school, me, but I 

t'ink dat was mean de kiss. 



Wall! nobody 's kickin' de row, Johnnie, an' 

if allumettes' fini, 
Put Philomene off on your pocket, an' sing 

leetle song wit' me ; 
For don't matter de hard you be workin' tou- 

jours you 're un bon garcon, 
An' nobody sing lak our Johnnie, Kebeck to 

de Mattawa! 



An' it 's den you be let her go, Johnnie, till 

roof she was mos' cave in, 
An' if dere 's firs' prize on de singin', Bagosli ! 

you 're de man can win ! 
Affer dat come fidelle of Joe Pilon, an" he 's 

feller can make it play, 
So we 're clearin' de floor right off den, for 

have leetle small danser. 



An' w'en dance she was tout finis, Johnnie, I 

go de sam' bunk wit' you 
Were we sleep lak two broder, an' dream of 

de girl on Riviere du Loup, 



1 1 6 The Habitant 

Very nice ontil somebody call me, it soun' lak 
de boss Pelang, 
Leve toi, Jeremie ma young feller, or else 
you '11 be late on de gang." 

An' den I am wak' up, Johnnie, an' w'ere do 

you t'ink I be ? 
Dere was de wood an' mountain, dere was de 

Cheval Gris, 
But w'ere is de boy an' musique I hear only 

w'ile ago ? 
Gone lak de flower las' summer, gone lak de 

winter snow! 



An' de young man was bring me up, Johnnie, 

dat 's son of ma boy Maxime, 
Say, " Gran'fader, w'at is de matter, you 

havin' de bad, bad dream ? 
Come look on your face on de well dere, it 's 

w'ite lak I never see, 
Mebbe 't was better you 're stayin', an' not 

go alone wit' me." 



An' w'en I look down de well, Johnnie, an' see 

de ole feller dere, 
I say on mese'f " you be makin' fou Jeremie 

Chateau vert, 



Camp on de "Cheval Gris" 117 

For t'ink you 're garcon agen. Ha! ha! jus' 

'cos you are close de eye, 
An' only commence for leevin' w'en you 're 

ready almos' for die! " 



Ah! dat 's how de young day pass, Johnnie, 

purty moche lak de t'ing I see, 
Sometam dey be las' leetle longer, sam' as wit' 

you an' me, 
But no matter de ole we 're leevin', de tarn 

she must come some day, 
W'en boss on de place above, Johnnie, he 's 

callin' us all away. 

I 'm glad I was go on de camp, Johnnie, I 

t'ink it will do me good, 
Mebbe it 's las' tarn too, for sure, I '11 never 

pass on de wood, 
For I don't expec' moche longer ole Jeremie 

will be lei", 
But about w'at I see dat day, Johnnie, tole 

nobody but yourse'f. 









*>%,- 



DE STOVE PIPE HOLE 

DAT 'S very cole an' stormy night on Vil- 
lage St. Mathieu, 
Wen ev'ry wan he 's go couche, an' dog was 

quiet, too — 
Young Dominique is start heem out see Em- 

meline Gourdon, 
Was leevin' on her fader's place, Maxime de 
Forgeron. 

Poor Dominique he 's lak dat girl, an' love her 
mos' de tarn, 

An' she was mak' de promise — sure — some day 
she be his famme, 

But she have worse ole fader dat 's never on de 
worl', 

Was swear onless he 's riche lak diable, no fel- 
ler 's get hees girl. 

He 's mak' it plaintee fuss about hees daughter 

Emmeline, 
Dat 's mebbe nice girl, too, but den, Mon Dieu, 

she 's not de queen ! 

nS 



De Stove Pipe Hole 119 

An' w'en de young man 's come aroun' for 

spark it on de door, 
An' hear de ole man swear " Bapteme! " he 's 

never come no more. 



Young Dominique he \s sam' de res', — was scare 

for ole Maxime, 
He don't lak risk hese'f too moche for chances 

seem' heem, 
Dat 's only stormy night he come, so dark you 

cannot see, 
An dat 's de reason w'y also, he 's climb de 

irallerie. 



De girl she 's waitin' dere for heem — don't 

care about de rain, 
So glad for see young Dominique he 's comin' 

back again, 
Dey bote forget de ole Maxime, an' mak de 

embrasser 
An affer dey was finish dat, poor Dominique is 

say — 



Good-bye, dear Emmeline, good-bye; I 'm 
goin' very soon, 
For you I got no better chance, dan feller on de 
moon — 



120 The Habitant 

It 's all de fault your fader, too, dat I be go 

away, 
He *s got no use for me at all — I see dat ev'ry 

day. 



" He's never meet me on de road but he is say 

' Sapre ! ' 
An' if he ketch me on de house I 'm scare he 's 

killin' me. 
So I mus' lef ole St. Mathieu, for work on 

'noder place, 
An' till I mak de beeg for-tune, you never see 

ma face." 

Den Emmeline say " Dominique, ma love 
you '11 alway be 

An' if you kiss me two, t'rec tarn I '11 not tole 
noboddy — 

But prenez garde ma fader, please, I know- 
he 's gettin ole — 

All sam' he offen walk de house upon de stock- 
in' sole. 

"Good-bye, good-bye, cher Dominique! I 

know you will be true, 
I don't want no riche feller me, ma heart she 

go wit' vou," 



De Stove Pipe Hole 121 

Dat 's very quick he 's kiss her den, before de 

fader come, 
But don't get too moche pleasurement — so 

'fraid de ole Bonhomme. 



Wall! jus' about dey 're half way t'roo wit all 

dat love beez-nesse 
Emmeline say, " Dominique, w'at for you 're 

scare lak all de res ? 
Don't see mese'f moche danger now de ole man 

come aroun'," 
Wen minute affer dat, dere 's noise, lak' house 

she's fallin' down. 



Den Emmeline she holler " Fire! will no wan 

come for me ? " 
An Dominique is jomp so high, near bus' de 

gallerie, — 
" Help! help! right off," somebody shout, 

I 'm killin' on ma place, 
It 's all de fault ma daughter, too, dat girl 

she 's ma disgrace. " 



He 's kip it up long tarn lak dat, but not hard 

tellin' now, 
W'at 's all de noise upon de house — who 's 

kick heem up de row ? 



122 The Habitant 

It seem Bonhomme was sneak aroun' upon de 

stockin' sole, 
An' firs' t'ing den de ole man walk right t'roo 

de stove pipe hole. 



Wen Dominique is see heem dere, wit' wan 

leg hang below, 
An' 'noder leg straight out above, he 's glad 

for ketch heem so — 
De ole man can't do not'ing, den, but swear 

and ax for w'y 
Noboddy tak' heem out dat hole before he \s 

comin' die. 



Den Dominique he spik lak dis, " Mon cher 
M'sieur Gourdon 

I 'm not riche city feller, me, I 'm only habi- 
tant, 

But I was love more I can tole your daughter 
Emmeline, 

An' if I marry on dat girl, Bagosh ! she 's lak de 
Oueen. 



I want you mak de promise now, before it 's 
come too late, 
An' I mus' tole you dis also, dere 's not moche 
tarn for wait, 



De Stove Pipe Hole 123 

Your foot she 's hangin' down so low, I 'm 

'fraicl she ketch de cole, 
Wall ! if you give me Emmeline, I pull you out 

de hole." 



Dat mak' de ole man swear more hard he never 

swear before, 
An' wit' de foot he 's got above, he 's kick it 

on de floor, 
" Non, non," he say " Sapre tonnerre ! she 

never marry you, 
An* if you don't look out you get de jail on 

St. Mathieu." 



" Correc'," young Dominique is say, " mebbe 

de jail 's tight place, 
But you got wan small corner, too, I see it on 

de face, 
So if you don't lak geev de girl on wan poor 

habitant, 
Dat 's be mese'f, I say, Bonsoir, mon cher 

M'sieur Gourdon." 

" Come back, come back," Maxime is shout — 

I promise you de girl, 
I never see no wan lak you — no never on de 

worl' ! 



124 The Habitant 

It 's not de nice trick you was play on man 

dat 's gettin' ole, 
But do jus* w'at you lak, so long you pull me 

out de hole." 



Hooraw ! Hooraw!" Den Dominique is pull 

heem out tout suite 
An' Emmeline she 's helpin' too for place heem 

on de feet, 
An' affer dat de ole man 's tak' de young peep 

down de stair, 
Were he is go couche right off, an' dey go on 

parloir. 



Nex' Sunday morning dey was call by M'sieur 
le Cure 

Get marry soon, an' ole Maxime geev Emme- 
line away; 

Den affer dat dey settle down lak habitant is 
do, 

An' have de mos' fine familee on Village St. 
Mathieu. 



" DE SNOWBIRD " 



OLEETLE bird dat 's come to us w'en 
stormy win' she 's blowin', 
An' ev'ry fiel' an' mountain top is cover wit' 
de snow, 
How far from home you "re fly in', noboddy 's 
never knowin' 
For spen' wit' us de winter tarn, mon cher 
petit oiseau ! 

We alway know you 're comin', w'en we hear 
de firs' beeg storm, 
A sweepin' from de sky above, an' screamin' 
as she go — 
Can tell you 're safe inside it, w'ere you 're 
keepin' nice an' warm, 
But no wan 's never see you dere, mon cher 
petit oiseau ! 

Was it 'way behin' de mountain, dat de nort' 
win' ketch you sleepin' 
Mebbe on your leetle nes' too, an' before de 
wing she grow, 

125 



126 The Habitant 

Lif you up an' bring you dat way, till some 
morning fin' you peepin' 
Out of new nes' on de snow dreef, mon pauv' 
petit oiseau ! 

All de wood is full on summer, wit' de many 
bird is sing dere, 
Dey mus' offen know each oder, mebbe mak' 
de frien' also, 
But w'cn you was come on winter, never seein' 
wan strange wing dere 
Was it mak' you feelin' lonesome, mon pauv r 
petit oiseau ? 

Plaintee bird is alway hidin' on some place no 
wan can fin' dem, 
But ma leetle bird of winter, dat was not de 
way you go — 
For de chil'ren on de roadside, you don't seem 
to care for min' dem 
Wen dey pass on way to schoolhouse, mon 
cher petit oiseau ! 



No wan say you sing lak robin, but you got no 
tarn for singin' 
So busy it was keepin' you get breakfas' on 
de snow, 



"De Snowbird" 127 

But de small note you was geev us, w'en it join 
de sleigh bell ringin' 
Mak' de true Canadian music, mon cher petit 
oiseau ' 



O de long an' lonesome winter, if you 're never 
comin' near us' 
If we miss you on de roadside, an' on all de 
place below ! 
But le bon Dieu he will sen' you troo de storm 
again for cheer us, 
W'en we mos' was need you here too, mon 
cher petit oiseau ! 







THE HABITANT'S JUBILEE ODE 

I READ on de paper mos' ev'ry day, all 
about Jubilee 
An' grande procession movin' along, an' passin' 

across de sea, 
Dat 's chil'ren of Queen Victoriaw comin' from 

far away 
For tole Madame w'at dey t'ink of her, an' 
wishin' her bonne sante. 

An' if any wan want to know pourquoi les 

Canayens should be dere 
Wit' res' of de worl' for shout " Hooraw " an' 

t'row hees cap on de air, 
Purty quick I will tole heem de reason, w'y we 

feel lak de oder do, 
For if I 'm only poor habitant, I 'm not on de 

sap re fou. 

Of course w'en we t'ink it de firs' go off, I 

know very strange it seem 
For fader of us dey was offen die for flag of 

L'Ancien Regime, 



128 



The Habitant's Jubilee Ode 129 

From day w'en de voyageurs come out all dc 

way from ole St. Malo, 
Flyin' dat flag from de mas' above, an' long 

affer dat also. 



De English fight wit' de Frenchman den over 

de whole contree, 
Down by de reever, off on de wood, an' out on 

de beeg, beeg sea, 
Killin', an' shootin', an' raisin' row, half tarn 

dey don't know w'at for, 
W'en it 's jus' as easy get settle down, not 

makin' de crazy war. 

Sometam' dey be quiet for leetle w'ile, you 

t'ink dey don't fight no more, 
An' den w'en dey 're feelin' all right agen, 

Bang! jus' lak' she was before. 
Very offen we 're beatin' dem on de fight, 

sometam' dey can beat us, too, 
But no feller 's scare on de 'noder man, an* 

bote got enough to do. 

An' all de long year she be go lak' dat, we 

never was know de peace, 
Not'ing but war from de wes' contree down to 

de St. Maurice; 



i3° The Habitant 

Till de las' fight 's comin' on Canadaw, an' 

brave Generate Montcalm 
Die lak' a sojer of France is die, on Battle of 

Abraham. 



Dat 's finish it all, an' de English King is axin' 

us stayin' dere 
Were we have sam' right as de 'noder peep 

comin' from Angleterre. 
Long tarn' for our moder so far away de poor 

Canayens is cry, 
But de new step-moder she 's good an' kin', 

an' it 's all right bimeby. 

If de moder come dead w'en you're small garcon, 

leavin' you dere alone, 
Wit' nobody watchin' for fear you fall, an hurt 

youse'f on de stone, 
An' noder good woman she tak' your han' de 

sam' your own moder do, 
Is it right you don't call her moder, is it right 

you don't love her too ? 



Ba non, an' dat was de way we feel, w'en de 

ole Regime 's no more, 
An' de new wan come, but don't change 

moche, w'y it 's jus' lak' it be before, 



The Habitant's Jubilee Ode 



131 



Spikin' Francais lak' we ahvay do, an 'de Eng- 
lish dey mak no fuss, 

An' our law de sam', wall, I don't know me, 
't was better mebbe for us. 



So de sam' as two broder we settle down, 

luevin' dere han' in han', 
Knowin' each oder, we lak' each oder, de 

French an' de Englishman, 
For it 's curi's t'ing on dis worl', I 'm sure you 

see it agen an' agen, 
Dat offen de mos' worse ennemi, he 's comin' 

de bes', bes' frien'. 



So we 're kipin' so quiet long affer dat, w'en 

las' of de fightin's done, 
Uat plaintee is say, de new Canayens forget 

how to shoot de gun; 
But Yankee man 's smart, all de worl' know 

dat, so he 's firs' fin' mistak' wan day 
Wen he 's try cross de line, fusil on hee's han', 

near place dey call Chateaugay. 

Of course it 's bad t'ing for poor Yankee man 

De Salaberry be dere 
Wit' habitant farmer from down below, an' 

two honder Voltigeurs, 



*3 2 The Habitant 

Dem feller come off de State, I s'pose, was 

fightin' so hard dey can 
But de blue coat sojer he don't get kill, is de 

locky Yankee man ! 

Since den w'en dey 're comin on Canadaw, we 

alway be treat dem well, 
For dey 're spennin' de monee lak' gentil- 

hommes, an' stay on de bes' hotel, 
Den " Bienvenu," we will spik dem, an' " Come 

back agcn nex' week, 
So long you was kip on de quiet an' don't talk 

de politique ! " 

Yass, dat is de way Victoriaw fin' us dis 

jubilee, 
Sometam' we mak' fuss about not'ing, but 

it 's all on de familee, 
An' w'enever dere 's danger roun' her, no 

matter on sea or Ian', 
She '11 find that les Canayens can fight de 

sam' as bes' Englishman. 



An' onder de flag of Angleterre, so long as 

dat flag was fly — 
Wit' deir English broder, les Canayens is satisfy 

leev an' die. 



The Habitant's Jubilee Ode 133 

Dat 's de message our fader geev us w'en dey 

're fallin' on Chateaugay, 
An' de flag was kipin' dem safe den, dat 's de 

wan we will kip alway! 



oc&ur 







OLE Docteur Fiset of Saint Anicet, 
Sapre tonnerre ! he was leev long tarn ! 
I 'm sure he 's got ninety year or so, 
Beat all on de Parish 'cept Pierre Courteau, 
An' day after day he work all de sam'. 

Dat house on de hill, you can see it still, 
She 's sam' place he buil' de firs' tain' he 
come 
Behi n' it dere 's one leetle small jardin 
Got plaintee de bes' tabac Canayen 

Wit' fameuse apple an' beeg blue plum. 

An' dey 're all right dere, for de small boy's 
scare 

No matter de apple look nice an' red. 
For de small boy know if he 's stealin' some 
Den Docteur Fiset on dark night he come, 

An' cut leetle feller right off hees head! 



134 



Ole Docteur Fiset 135 

But w'en dey was rap, an' tak' off de cap, 

M'sieu' le Docteur he will say " Entrez," 
Deu all de boy pass on jardin behin' 
Were dey eat mos' ev'ryt'ing good-dey fin', 
Till dey can't go on school nearly two, t'ree 
day. 

But Docteur Fiset, not moche fonne he get, 

Drivin' all over de whole contree, 
If de road she 's bad, if de road she 's good, 
W'en ev'ryt'ing 's drown on de Spring-tarn 
flood, 
An' workin' for not'ing half tarn' mebbe ! 

Let her rain or snow, all he want to know 

Is jus' if anywan 's feelin' sick, 
For Docteur Fiset 's de ole fashion kin' 
Doin' good was de only t'ing on hees min' 

So he got no use for de politique. 

An' he 's careful too, 'cos firs' t'ing he do, 

For fear dere was danger some fever case, 
Is tak' w'en he 's come leetle w'isky chaud, 
Den 'noder wan too jus' before he go, 

He 's so scare carry fever aroun' de place! 

On nice summer day w'en we 're makin' hay 

Dere 's not'ing more pleasant for us I 'm sure 
Dan see de ole man come joggin' along, 



i3 6 The Habitant 

Alway singin' some leetle song, 

An' hear heem say " Tiens, mes amis, Bon- 
jour! 

An' w'en de cole rain was commence again 
An' we 're sittin' at home on some warm 
cornerre, 
If we hear de buggy an' see de light 
Tearin' along t'roo de black, black night, 
We know right off dat 's de ole Docteur! 

An' he 's smart horse sure, w'at he call " Fau- 
bourg," 

Ev'ry place on de Parish he know dem all, 
An' you ought to see de nice way he go 
For fear he 's upsettin' upon de snow, 

W'en ole man 's asleep on de cariole ! 

I 'member w'en poor Hormisdas Couture 

Get sick on hees place twenty mile away 
An' hees boy Ovide he was come '' Raquette " 
W'at you call " Snowshoe," for Docteur Fiset, 
An' Docteur he start wit' hees horse an' 
sleigh. 

All de night before, de beeg storm she roar, 

An' mos' of de day it 's de sam' also, 
De drif was pilin' up ten feet high 
You can't see not'ing dis side de sky, 
Not 'inn but wan avalanche of snow. 



Ole Docteur Fiset 137 

I 'm hearin' de bell w'en I go on de well 

For water de cattle on barn close by, 
But I only ketch sight of hees cheval blanc 
An' hees coonskin coat wit' de capuchon 

An' de storm tak' heem off, jus' de sam' he 
fly. 

Mus' be le Bon Dieu dat is help him t'roo, 
Ole Docteur Fiset an' hees horse " Fau- 
bourg," 
'T was somet'ing for splain-me, wall I don't 

care, 
But somehow or 'noder he 's gettin' dere, 
An' save de life Hormisdas Couture. 

But it 's sam' alway, lak' dat ev'ry day, 

He never was spare hese'f pour nous autres, 

He don't mak' moche monee, Docteur Fiset, 

An' offen de only t'ing he was get 

Is de prayer of poor man, an' wan bag of oat. 



Wall! Docteur Fiset of Saint Anicet 

He is not dead yet! an' I 'm purty sure 
If you 're passin' dat place about ten year more 
You will see heem go roun' lak' he go before 
Wit' de ole cariole an' hees horse " Fau- 
bourg-! " 



